Elements of Modern Materialism: Inculcating the Idea of a Future State in ...

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Modern Materialism

• INCULCATING TBS IDEA OF A FUTURX STATE, IV WHICB ALL
WILL BE MOBS HAPPT, UNDER WHATEVER CIRCUll-
V STANCES THET MAT BE PLACED, THAN 11* THAT

. ^ EXPERIENCED SO MISERY IN THIS LIFE*

By

(

CHARLES KNOWLTON^ M. D.

° They who wooM advance in knowled^i and not deceive and

» swell themselves with a little articifluted air, should lay down thia
aa a fundamentnl rale, not to take words for things, nor suppose
tthat names in books signify real entHiei io nature^ till they can
^ fcRine clear and distinct ideas i>f thoae entities. ** Locke*

I

if

ADAMS, MASS. :

PRINTED FOB THE AUTHOR, BT it OAXRT.

1839.

<■■

* '• ■ ^' V

,UC UB

.»*■*;

H

n 1927

-- • • •

• -I • %♦•

* • » • • * 'i J

DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSfiTtS^Un?/ : ♦^^ • ,

DisTAicT Cle' k's Office. • *

Be IT RBMRMBERRD, That OR the thirtef>nfA day of Jan jnrj^ r-^ m
A I) 18*9, in the fifty ihirH year of the indepen(}eu^e of ihe Uni-
ted Strifes of America, Cbaklk9 Knowlton, of the said Districl^ ^'
has deposited iu this office the title of a book, the right u hereof be* .
claims as author and proprietor, io the words following, to wit: ' '

'* CiemeBls of IModern Matenalisim : inculcating the idea of a ••*

future slate, in which all wiil be more huppy, under whatever cir- ' J|^
curastances they may be placed, than it thf*y ei^perieDced no mi|e||^ jF
ID this life. By Ch^irles Knowlton. M. D. ♦ #l •

'' They who would advance iu knowledge, and not deceive #im *• ^#
gwell themselves with a little articulated air. should lay dpwn this •

as a fundamental rule, not to take words for things, n4)r,suppose »
that names in bf»oka signify n-at entities in nAiurr, tilVVthey* can ' ^
frame clear and distiuct idws of those entities. — Locke*" '

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United ^flneS| ^
entitled *^ An 4Ct for thje eucouragement of learning,
copies of innps charts and books, to the authors and
9uch copies, during the times ther'in mentioner} :
au act entitled ''An act supplenvntary to an act, enlitl<;d, An ^
act for the encoura^enient of learning, by securing the copies <tf J| ^
niHps, charts aud book< to the Huiht;>rs and proprietors o^ such* co-«^\
pifs during the times therein mentioned ; and extending the bene-.*
fits thereof to the ajtii of destgoiug, jeggraving and Mchiug historical
^SkA other priut9.

JNO. VV. DAVIS,
CUrk of Ike Dimrici of Maaauctiusells,

united MWreS| ■
by se^*uria|^he I

f and also to *| **

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IS

BEDICATEDs

\* {^ As the strongest effort of a feeble pen^ to brush ^way the scho*

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• ^ lastio mist that has so long enveloped the intellectual pbe*
^f^9 noineu^^ and served to foster maoj important errors —

' . : BY THE AUTHOR*

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*' 373, (which in afpw copies ii^ paged 3;^7^)/l MlT.lfte^^

top, leave out the' word in. ' . tt

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in room of the period*;'
Besides the above, there a few other errors^ which the^reader wil^^
find no difficulty in correcting.

^

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0::^ At page 28, the author has made some reniarks'iHHicerhipg* «
the word nature, that will not bt* ar critirisiiig : it must l)#lnfllii)lli*.dt^ -
that the word hasi more than one meaning. '^ The tfnt verse of r •
opf nioQ," would be a very odd expression. •'. ' ',

Also, at page 70, in "the lasf^ paragraph, there appears to be a a
hbmdJpr^ which the author fears the reader will not be^ able ^Q cor* f
irect. He considers the faculty of man to communicate his fdeaV by
aign«, an iicfMiVe// faculty ; but he is not able to sTcquire.this -f»vcut-
ty bt^cause bis vocal nrg-j^ns are better than thosen^a Iiapk;^ 6tt|-*
becauso be possesses handstand a btiter brain^ than a bor^: f

• to • "

CONTENTS.

Page.

Prcfacb> 7

CHAP. l.^^Which is the moMt rational supposition^ that

a being exists which never eommenced ex^
istence^ or thai a being commenced exis»

ience without fin antecedent ? 9

\\.— On Matter, - - - - - 15

in, — On the Universe, Power, Cause, Effect, ^c. 1 9

IV* — On Deity, and the Relation which subsists
between the Creator and the Events of

' the Universe, - - - - 29

V. — On Action or Change, • - - 41

VL — On Union — Mechanical, Chemical, and

Organic, ..---. 50

VU — On Vegetables, ^ - - 69

VI If. — General Rerfurrhs concerning Animals, j5S

IX.— On the Nervous System^ - • - 73

'^.^—On the Muscidar System, • « • 88

XL — On the Relation which Subsists between the

Muscular and Nervous Systems, - 117

Xlt. — On Sensation and Perception, • 1 68

Xi 1 1. — On Ideas and Sensorial Tendencieh, 1 88

X\\ .—On Remembering, ... 209

XV. — On Imagining, - - • - 213

XVI.— On Si^n^, 216

XVn On Judging, - . - - 238

XVI IL— On J5e/t>/; .... 257

X}X.— On Knowledge, - - - - 270

XX.— On Personal Identity, ... 275

XXI On Volition, . . - - 285

XXII.— On /AePamom, - - - 309

XXIII— On i?e%on, - - - ^ 321

vi. CONTENTS.

CHAP. XXIV. — On Phenomena referred to Instinct, 3 J2
XXV. — On Sleep^ - - . . 34I

XXVI. — On Dreaming, Somnambulism and

Somniloquismy ... 345

XXVII.-r-On Insanity^ - - . . 335

XXVIII. — Onldiotism^ - - - - 367

XX iX. — On Death arid Di/ingj • - 370

XXX. — An Attempt to show that Materialism is
as consistent with Christianity as Im^
materialism^ - - - - 377

XXXI. — On a Future State^ ' - - - 397

XXXI I. — On Human Happiness^ Good atid

Evil^ Morality, ^c. - - 403

XXXI II. — A Brief Sketch of the Opinions of

several Ancient and Modern Phi'
losophtrs concerning the Consti-
tution and Phenomena of' Man :
Given partly for the purpose of
showing that the Hypothesis of
tSoxil gave risf to the sceptical phi"
losophy oj Berkley and Hume, 41 g

XXXIV. — A Refutation of Professor Stewart^s

Argumerufor the existence of Soul
or Mind, - - - . 43^

XXXV. — Professor Lawrence^s Lecture on the

Functions of the brain, - 432

XXXVI. — Some of the difficulties that attetul

the Hypothesis of Soul^ but do not
attend the doctrine of Materialism, 441

Conclusion, 446

PI1117A0&«

I am out at last, in the condition you s<>e me. My author has
had to contend with many difficuhies in bringing me forth ; and he
HFuuld hav** me suggest to yon, that if the circuni.«tances under which
he has composed me, were known, they would be considered as
suffi-^ient apology for many minor errors But for his atttenipting
to write under such circumstances, he can offer nothing beittfr than
his conviction that he is able to throw considerable light upon sev*
rral very important and very interesting subjects — He firmly be-
lieves that the leading principles wh;rh I cou^ain, are true ; and
Uiat by the difiusion ol truth, the happiness of the human family
will io the en J be promoted. He is aware, however, that many
persons strangely ground their hopes of a future state, in the eiist-
ence of a thing which I shdil convince you has no being in nature ^
a thing which almost all philosopiiers who maintain its existence,
admit to be unextended, and consequently not a millionth part as
lai^e «& % ^in's head ; — a thing which they rail Soul or Mind, but
which is nut declared m vVw Woid of God to be immortal, and the
ceasel«*ss existence of which — admitting it to be such a feeling,
thinking thing as maintained — is inconsistent with the doctrine of
resurrection, as set forth in the Christian Scriptures. Such |)er-
sons — though they may have their curiosity gratified by perusing
roe — will not be plrased with the sentiments which 1 contain ; ua-
Uss I succeed io convincing them th<it (heir future existence in a
state of consciuusness, does not at .ill depend on the existence of
this unextended thing But this 1 may be able to do ; for by sho^^
jog what personal idenliiy does in truth consist in. I shall remove
the difficulties th<it have been supposed to attend the doctrine of a
future state, if the doctrine of MATkftiALi&M be admitted.
^ As ^^ The proper study of mankind is man," and as a knowledge
of himself is the most useful knowh dge he can acquire -that is, the
most conduci\e to his happines?t — it is intended that 1 be studied
(for I am not written merely to please the taste) b^ ull cl;i»ises of
readers ; consequently I am not exactly the same thing I should
have been, had I been designed for any one class in particiil.ir.
And while men of science, and especially medical men, will find
many facts already known to them ; the less learned will meet
with a few technical terms with which they are imacquainted. But
I may, perhaps^ be found inierestiog thr(>ughout, eveu to medical

viii. • PREFACE.

gentlemeD ; for these facts are brought forward and arranged with
a design to establish the important inferekices my author has drawn
from them. And as to technical terms, in almost all cases they are
so brought in, that the reader will know their meaning as soon as he
comes to them.

As it is believed that I contain a new system of notions, — that
my merits may not be wrongly appreciated, it is my autbor's ur«
gent request that the; reader either put me aside at once, or read
me through attentively, and in order, from beginning to end. — If
my eleventh chapter be found rather tedious, it is necessary that it
be attentively read, to the right understanding of What follows.

That my author might *^ begin at the beginning,'^ and tiiat be
might have a fit opportunity to advance a few ideas for the consid-
eration of. those who love to think ; he has inserted my first chap-
ter : though he cannot see as it has any connexion with niy lead-
ing principles.

Excepting what i.« contained in three or four chapters, I contain
▼ery little that is taken from other books. Nor has my author en-
deavored to exhaust any of the various subjects of which be has
treated. — He has hiade truth his pole-star, atid steered right ahead,
laying down his principles, and explaining the phenomena of man
liponthef^e principles, without turning to the right •r left to favor or
oppose any sect or party : if he have done either, it is because It
came in his way.

He does not say he presents me to an enlightened, imparttaij
and unprejudiced public, by whose decision I must stand or fall ;
for there is no such public in existence.

It is expected the critics wi!l fall to nibbling my sofi parts — of
wliich I possess a pretty good share — but my author will never be
troubled for this, should it be fdund that tbey are unable to destroy
my bones*

tidamsf Jemtary 28th, 1829.

OF

MODERN MATERIALSM^

CHAPTER I.

frUc4 is the ntQsi rationai aupposUtvn, thai a being ^xisfs nhUik
never commenced txistence.y or thai a being comtnettced exial*
mee wifhotU an antecedent 7

The sentiment that a being c^xists which never commenced
existence, or, what is the same thing, that a being' exists which
has existed from all eternity, appear? to up to favor atliei^nt t
ftr,'iS v»*^ ^o;n^ exist which never commenced existence, why
not another — why not the CThiVCrtfer -trwetgtwTrofhing, says
the atheist, in the eye of reason,' to sarjrthe universe appears
to man ab though it were organized by an Almighty Tl^igru^ I
. A>r the maker of a thing must be superior to the thing made •
and if there be a Maker ofthe universe, there can be no doubt
1>at that if such Maker were minutely examined by man, man
would discover »uch indications of wisdom and design, that it
would be more difficult for him to admit that such Maket was
not caased or constructed by a pre-existing Designer, than to
admit that the universe was not caused or Consinrrted by a
Designer. But no one will contend for an infinite series of
Makers \ and if, continues the atheist, what would if viewed*
he indications of design, are no proof of a designer in the one
case, they are not in the other.; and f^ssucli. indications »J^
the only evidence we have of the existence of h Desi^nt r of

4be universe, we^ as rational beings, contend thore is no £rod*

2

]§

^e So not Mippone the existence of iiny being of wMch ihtrB
10 no evidence, when such supposition, if admitted, so far frofa
diminishing, would only increase a d'fficulty which is at best
tufficieiilly great. Surely, if a superior being may have ex«
isted from all eternity, an inferior may have existed from all
eternity ; — if a great God,8ufliciently mighty to make a worl<^
may have existed from aU eternity, of course without begin*
ring and without cause, such world may have existed from
ftll eternity, without beginning, without cause.

Such being the ai^uments which atheists may advance, on
the supposition that a being exists which never commenced
existence ; we, as firm believers in the existence of an intelli*
gent Creator of the universe, shall endeavor to show that it ie
more rational to suppose that a being commen«*ed existence
without an antecedent, than to suppose that a being exista

^hjrh never began to exist. '

It wiil beadmitftid that a man can no more conceive of%
being existing from hII eternity, m the common sense of the
%rorJ eti rnil>, than he can conceive of space extending so far
th.it.there is no conceivable space beyond. Let us think bacfe
8$ far as we plea^e. in spite of us it will seem as though every
bi'iiig, agent, or entity, which does exist, must some time or
O'iier have commenced existence. We may verbally admit
tl)nt a being has existed from all eternity ; but still, ihis/rom
ell tienniy will aeem to us as from some very distant period
or r-mmiencement. It gives a close thinker no satisfactioa
to teil him that a being has existed 'rom all eternity: he caa
bave no such notion as these words are intended, and peihapi
S'ipposed, to convey ; and he is more and more convinced of
this, the more he endea^-Di^ lo (osm such notion*

Li 1 u>sHy ttiat eternity is co-extensive with time, and that
tioie ift Umi g^n oi duiaiiou iu wiiicb a being has existed* Wv

11

ihhall tht» haire« «oii of fixed point, or 9tartiT)g plaf e ^ ani
mnnsay that the Deity hasexisted during ail cieniiij.

Now it follows, according to our use of the word time, that
|»rior to the commencement of time, nothing was — neichef
Oiatter, nor laws of nature* It had not been decreed tha< no f
effect shall take place without cause, — it was not (hen a law
of nature that every evefit shah be preceded b^ some other
«ventj that no being shall exist except ix be caused to
«xtst, and this too in a certain way. Hence it wasjui^tas
likely that a being should commence existence as otherways|
there was no reason why a being should comirence cxislencs
and no reason why a being should not — nothing to<caQ«if.' to
be, or to prevent from being, and a being commenced exist*
cnce. Now this being, whatever i| might be, was all-power*
ftil, considering the .relation in which it stood ; for indeed, aa
nothing else existed, it stood in relation with nothing : no law
orpovvvi '*^««^ted to oppose or be opposed, and it might aS
^efl be one thing as another. , liid«ed^iiia jipi uiut:nsunabl«
to suppose that this being underwent,, as we may s^y^fortuim
I0U5 changes — perhaps inauy miili'^ns of them-^-beibre it be*
came a thinking Being. But after this, He decreed: HfiMCfi*

J'ORTH NOTHING SHALL Bfi LXChlPr AT MY PLEAsCJRK ; and it

was and ever has been so. For the decree of this Being vfni^
and the decree of any othei being under the same circwnst '/i*
§es would have been, sufficient to determine any thing. (It
takes but little to turn the scale when there is no weight m
ttie other end.)

Uod now willed a universe into existence,* and Order was

*it was a dogma of all iIip ancient schools of philosophy, that
0iatt«'r rould not b** cmited 4mt ot' tiolkirtg^ by nny power wh^ievfT,
Unr\ 8«ch 18 ihe (i|>iir*m of* s«»iae nK»'it»rn pnilosopherH Wt .\*h\1
pji «ater iuta aoj long diacuMKm ul ikin qucfiiiun ^ w« b«Uti0

Has flie second decree of Heaven : it was decreed that noth-
ine shall act until il be arted on, and rhe same anteredents
shall be invariably succeeded by the same consequents, under
the »Mme circumstances. Thi« was the taw of order. Eleci
tnrir> now sprung forth and prevadcd all thmgs. This is the
main-spring of the universe, which (he Deity caused to be— ^
It is the essential cause of rII actions or changes,— it is the ma-
terial life of a material world.

Now it was in heaven decreed that no being shall com*
inence existence without cause and that like antecedents shall
be invarraby succeeded by like consequents, under the same
circumstances, be/ore any man existed. Consequently n»
bian ever saw a being commence existenre without cause;
instead of this, man sees tJiat certain agents acting under cer-
tain circumstances, are invariably succeeded by certain ac-
tions or chang«8 of certain other agents; and this gives rise
to the belief— and to the language by whicfc-ro ^Kpresi
it— that agents or bodies possess rntnnsick/>ozoer^ of producmg
Changes in each other, ond that nothing can and (foi^ettmff

that the \nyr6 ot nature were totally different before there

-1 11 " — ■ ■ ■ . -.■,,..

however, that on a full consideration of the subject, it will appear
that we may as well admit thai matter might commence existence
is til admtt many other things which no one denies. T«» say that
inciter was created out of nothing, is to state the simple fact that
nifiUtr ci'iiitnettced exisIeHCf^ in rather had language To rreate
01// 0/ irresistibly conveys the idea of to create out of somethimo,
and the expresst»n to crenU ouf of nothiufr seems to in* olve a con-
trndiiMion, besides being an expression of that whirh is inconreiva-
bit- Let us say ihat the Deity willed it, and matter nnmediaiely
commenced existence Here are two events between which there
is no intHrvenmg event, and we say we rannot conceive how or why
the Huhsequeni event followed the antereilent ; but ft will be made
to appear, in ih» cnurse v( tliis work, that In t^very case m which
one event wiftiedkUeiy succeeds another we cannot conceiva bot^
•r why.

13

^ere iiny Ijiws of T>atnrc) never conlff commence exifitenc^
except i\ be caused to exist b) something wliich possesses the
Jjoiprr of causing it to exist.

But suppose the laws of nature, and consequently man'!
#xperience, had be^^ii intirely different ; suppose that no man
«ver saw any event preceded or succeeded by another pan^
ticuiar event moie thdU once ; suppose it were a very com*-
men and every-day thing to see men. machines, rocks, trees
inc. springing at once into existence, even in a vacuum, uq«
der all sorts of circumstances or no circumstance at all; to
see heavy bodies rise info (he air without force at pne time
but not at another, though under the same circumstances ; to
tee prectsol} (he same kind of oil mix with waterat onetime,
though nor at another: in short, suppose all events took place
without any order or regularity, would any one think that
e^«*ry ev»'ni must be preceded by some other event, that one
body has the poucr «.C ^rn«1iiriiig a change in another body^
and that nothing can commence existence, uujess something
pre\iously exist which has the power of causing it to exist?
We think not,— we think if the events of nature never had
occurred in some kind of order, we never should have heard
-any ihing about pcaer^ cause, effect, &c. We think also, that
men might then very readily admit, that a being may com*
mcnce existence, or might have commenced existence, al*
though nothing exist prior to such commencement, of course^
tvithout an antecedent.

Perhaps, reader, you will say, that if the laws of nature
*were totally difierent from what the) now are, we may well
'Suppose that events might oc« ur without being preceded by
ottier events in any way connected with them. Well, if yon
adn- r thif, ymi accede to the «ertiment we are endeavoring
to maiDtain ; for before there were any nature or laws of na«

14

I

tore, «bcre coiiM not have been any siich laws of nature a|

ttiere now are.

It appears, then, (to the writer at least,) that the difficulty
which one experiences in admitting that a being nvight com-
mence existence without an antecedent, is owing to a sort of
prejudict which he acquires b> w.tnessing events a^ thf> o.*
cur, since it has been decreed that the same anlecedenls shall
be followed by the same consequents, and decreed also, that
nothing *hall exist except it Be caused to eiist. The conclu-
sion is : It is more rational to suppose that a being should
commence existence VI itbout an an ec edeut, than that a being
exists which never had a beginning.

The reader will not suppose that we consider what we have
been saying as any argument against atheism; for the atheist
may grant our conclusion, but still tell us, U does not follovf
but that it is just as probable that the universe commenced
existence without an autec«d«u.^ u-* - XFfes^-.er of the
« iverse thus commenced existenre.-Ourargumen.s against
atheism are to be found in the fourth chapter of this work.

Should anv one pretend it is irreverent to say of thf Deity,
that, thoosh'he is self-existing, i. e. not created, caused, or
preceded, he, in some remote period of duration, comme,wd
txisunce ; we should ask, why so ? We can see nothing ob-
jectionable in such doctrine, it does not follow that th«
power and goodness of the Deit) are different from what (hey
are supposed to be. by those who make the ambiguous asscc
tion, that the Deity has existed/row all eternity. It does not
follow that tYe relation between the Deity and the universe,
and the relation between men and their Make., and betweeo
each other; is not the same as if we suppose the Deity never
be«an to be. Nor docs it follow that the Dei.y will cvef
oeiibe lo b« « no mortal mtux cau otfet any reasou why the i)v

Id

ity ihouU erer rea«e to be, on the finppo^ition that Tie •nite
\yegan (o be, that cannot be given against his ceaseless exists
WCGt OD the supposition that he never Gommeoced eststencew

■O "^

CHAPTER II.
On Matter.

^e define matter, tf combination of properties. It foTIowv,
According to this definition of matter, (hat space^ or what is
Sometimes called empty space is not matter, as was contend^
ed by Des Cartes, for space consists of but one single proper-
ty^ to wit, extension*

We know that much has been said about the essettce ot
matter. Many phi lo^^ophers speak of it, even at the present
day, w;r^^«i«3Eh it were something distinct from the properties
of matter, not some!hing whtcti these properties constitutey but
something which is " the permanent exhibiter^' of these pro-
perties. We atie gravely told, that we are irresistibly led to
B.!>cribe these properties to such e^sence or permanent subject,
•'by the very constitution of our nature. ^^ But the present
writer is rather unfortui.ate, for the constitution of his nature^
^if hecan divine what this is,) does not lead him to ascribe
the properties of matter to something besides what they con*
Vtitiite ; but the construction of our language compels him to
speak as though he considered the properties of matter, or the
pnaterial properties, as belonging to something which they do
pot constitute. He speaks of the properties of matter, and
of matter possessing properliesi, just as he speaks of the stu«
dents of a university, the father of a child, and of a man pos-
vesting: a house ; hut he supposes that one conibmatto.i of
propertm coasUiuica oue kind or form of matter, auolli^:'

ID

jii»n»ViinMinii another kind, nvd so on ; — he would Hot be UE^
i4er<:(noH to f'm'pow that the property- of mailer are proper^
tieit of any thin : rgirtes what they constitute.

We nerd resort to do long reasoning processes to convince
•ne that the essence of matter is a name without a thing ; eve«
ry man will admit, afier a very little thinking;, \hi\i f all the
properties which constitute any bodv, or if you please, of any
body, be taken away, nothing will remain. Take from any
body the property of exteption,of impenetrability, of attract,
tion, and every other properly which may he present, an4
^hat, pray, will remain ? — He that asserts that matter itself,
as some say, or the essence of matter, as others sav, is one
thins;, and the properties of matter something elae. asserts a
sheer and inconceivable hypothesis, in support of which he
CBti bring nothing at all*

If, then, combmatiooB of properties const itntfi tha material
(world by which we are Kifidunded," and of which we area
part, the question may be asked, what is a properly? A prop<>
ferty, sii^ly considered, is the moM unique thing in natur^
^nd does not, of course, admit of being defined. Every body
must learn what a property is, by experience; — who cau
^define sioeet to a man who never could taste ? white to a maft
'Who never could see ? and solidity to a man who never couitl
-feel ?

We cannot say what is the least number of properties, exr
isting together ; or, in other words, there may be some forma
cf matter in nature consisting of fewer properties than any
form we are acquainted with. Extension and impenetrabstity
United, would constitute what all men would willingly call
matter; but it is pretty certain that these properties are no*
Ter united in nature, wuhoti! other properties being present^
O; again, there may be in existence (as we will admit) coo^-

17

binatms of properties, i. e. kinds of matter, in which extear
Bion and impenetrability are not both present.

Who is it that brings together three or four words, and Rays,
that when those properties which ihese words signify exist to-
gether, what they constitute shali be called maiier; and whea
one or more of these properties are wanting, what still exists
shall not be called matter ? )t is a human being. We are all
fcuinao beings ; and as it is man who has invented the word
maiUr to denote substances possessing certain properties,
why may not men enlarge the meanii.g of the word, so as to
comprehend those substances or* existences now called npiri-
hial, provided it is fit to do so ? Do you say that those beings
which are called roateriaU and those which are called gpiritu*
al, Bte'essentialli/ different ? But what do you mean by essen*'
Hally different ? To have nothing in common, you answer*
They have something in common : both classes of substan*
ces are comWnaiWri* jjf jf^ropj^rfv^. — Did the man ever exist
who believed that spirits consist of only one property ? Spirits
are generally spoken of as being extended, visible, and move-
able botlies ; and in olden times they used to have wipgs, ride
in chariots, &c« The moderns know nothing about spirits ;
and it is probable they never would have thought of such
things were it not for what has been handed down.from men
•fancieut times, whose active brains were not clogged by an
overstock of scientific knowledge. Had the ancients known
as much as the moderns about the laws and properties of mat-
ter — had they been as well acquainted with the nature of the
atrnctipheric air, and many other invisible, intangible, and yet
wuiUricUho&i%i • it is probable they never would have iuvent<»
ad, never would liave had any use for^ the word spirit ^ nor
ev^r believed in the existence of any thing which is not ma-
teriah Nay, we very much doubt if any ancient ever did b^

IS

Iteve in the existence of ariy thing immaterial, in the sense iu
which the word immaterial is now understood.*

We know not how recently the word immaterial has been
invented ; we believe, however, the word is not to be found
in the bible. And thanks to close thinkers, if any bodj
ever meant any thing by it, men have been compelled to ad«
mit, that whatever is immaterial ia unexUnded / And one
might have reasonably expected that all who know enough to
keep out of fire and water, would cease to talk, gravely^ about
a BEiNo that ifl uneztended ! — What sort of machinery is it,
that is in such continual operation as to keep alive the most
palpable absurdities ?

Although we have admitted that there may be substances
in existence that do not possess the two properties of exten-*
sion and impenetrability, vie are far from believing that there
are such ;— if there be, we must suppose that thfi^- coasiat of
more than one property, nn O a ie,"'Cr course, whatwe shouldf
call material. Barely to the expression, material spirits^ we
bare no more objections, than to the expression material
stones ; but as professed searchers after truth, we cannot ad-
nit the existence of any thing until we have some other evi-
dence of it, than merely that a name is provided for it, if it do
indeed exist. The opinions of men of ancient times concern-
ing the nature of things, can have but very little weight with
philosophers of (he present day, since such great discoveries
concerning the laws and properties of matter have, in modem
times, been made, and so many ancient errors detected.

The road to truth has been very much obstructed by old
thingless names, got into use by the ancients ; and it is, at the

• The Laiin gpiritiu^ from 8piro * to bre^^he,* is the original of
our spirit, hikI ineHiis merrly < breath/ which is as truly matter as
the earth un whicti we tread.

19

present time, no trifling and unimportant task, to show what^
words are insignificant, and to determine the precise tbiugi
wiiich other wordfi ought to be used to signify*

CHAPTER in.

On the Univeraej Power, Cause, Effect, ^c*

By the word universe, we mean every thing that was crea«
fed by an Almighty Designer. , We do not consider space aa
a real entity or agent ; we do not think it proper to say that
space was created. With us, it is unconceivable that an agent
should exist which never commenced existence ; but with us»
it is equally inconceivable that space should not have existed
(if it be proper to speak of the existence of that which is not a
being,) from eternity. Neither do we consider the Designer of
the aniyerse a* t*. i^ort of the universe, but as something dis-
tinct from it : we say that the word universe ought to be used
to signify every thing that was created^ and we say, further-
more, every thing which was crci^ted^ji mg^/^.

Now when any body of matter acts, this body may be ch\U
ed the agent of such action ; and <he action itself may be call-
ed an event, if an ultimate atom of matter act, this atom is,
also, the agent of such action, and the aclion as truly an event
as any other, although our senses may be too imperfect to
perceive either the atom or the action ; or, in other words, to
perceive either the atom (at rest) or the atom acting ; for the
action of an agent is nothing other than, nothing distinct fromp
the agent acting, any more than a property of a body is some-
thing distinct from the body.

Events do not occur promiscuously ; but it is a universal
iact^ or law of nature^ ttmt such e?ent as is succeeded by a

V

•ertain otber event at one time, is at all times sneceeded by
the same event, cirruinstances being the same.

We must n6w show what we mean hy circumstances » The
word circumstances, is a convenient word which we often use
to denote all th^^se preceding events which we do not wish te
be at the (rouble of enumeratnig ; — we need not add, that wo
also use it to denote conditions* for this is implied, since the
same cha:n of antecedent events gives rise to the same condi*
tions. No body is ever in a condition^ except it he put in such
condition; and this putting any thing in a condition is an
event ; therefore, if the circumstances be the same, if the pre-
ceding events be the same, the present conditions will be the
same. Flence, to say the word circumstances means precc"
ding events^h as much as to say it aiedins preceding events and
present conditions.

Now the universal fact, or law of nature, that like ante-
Ce(lents*BTe invariably 8urc<uMU^. Uy Hki. cijn sequents, under
the same circumstances, has given rise to the words Power,
Cause, and Effect. Men have found that a certain action,
or change, of theJH)d>.Jii, is immediately, and under the same
circumstances, invariably succeeded by a certain action of the
body B. but that an action of X, although X be brought in
contact with B, is not followed by such change or action of
B. Such experience has given rise to the sentiments, (and to
the fanguage to express them,) that the action of A is the
cause of the action of B : that the action of B is the effect of
such cduse ; and that A possesses a something [a power] which
enables it to produce (both bad terms) a change or action of
B, and which X does not possess.

0( cause and effect we shall treat more fully presently. As
to the word poto^r. there can be no harm in using it as above,
if it be rightly understood, if it give rise to no false notions*
By the pow^r of A, to produce a change of B, nothing more

^1

auc;1)t to be meant than the simple fact, that under certain cir-
cum^^tances, a certain change of A is immediately and invaria-
bly succeeded by a certain change of B. If a man suppose
that the power of any body be something distinct from, and
somtsthing more than such body, then is he deceived by Ian*
guage,%nd led to beUevc in the existence of a non-entity.

\ryower of a body, instead of being distinct from, or more
than such body, is a part of such body, in the same sense thai
a property of a certain kind ol matter is a part of such matter.
Take away, or destroy any property, or power, of any body,
and it is no fenger the same body, logically speaking. In-
deed, if there be any difierence between a power and a prop-
erty of a body, it must be a very nice and not essential one.
We must make it ourselves, by saying that a body possesses
&)i)bwer^ when we find that it produces certain changes in oth-
er bodies ; and that a body possesses a property^, when we find
that it not OD\y produee* cKanges in other bodies, but stivers
•hanges from the action of other bodies.

But if there be no more real distinction between a power
and a property, than this, some may wonder why we sholiM
say, as above, that, by the poioer of the body A to produce a
change in the body B, nothing more ought to be meant than
that, under certain circumstances, a certain change or action
of A is immediately and invariably succeeded by a certain
change of B. But this wonder will cease when we consider
closely the only reason we have, in any case, for saying a bo-
dy possesses a property, it will be found that the only rea-
son id, because the body may produce a change in some other
body, or sufiTer a change in itself from the action of some oth-*
•r body.

Some will see, at once, that this as^tertion is true ; others
will wonder at it, and ask what change in any other body, a
(iec« of gold, laid away in a box, produces, that leads us to

flay it is extended, jeUow, and hea^y, But it must be remem*
bered, that gold would be to mankind nothing at all, if no piece
of gold ever ^cted upon any of the seuses of any man ; and^
certainly, in such case, no man would have any reason to say
that gold is extended,. yellow, and heavy. And as to the par-
ticular piece of gold laid away in a box, he that knows noth*
ing about this piece of gold, cannot say that this piece of gold
is extended, &c. But some one has seen and felt this piece
of gold, — then this piece of gold produced same change io tb»t
which sees and feels ; and on thia account, whoever saw and
felt the gold, has reason to say it is extefnded, yellow, kc.

We do not say but that trees, stones, &c. would have had
the same properties that they now have, if no sentient being
had ever existed ; hut the only reason we have for saying
that bodies possess properties, is, because they produce or
lufTer changes.

Perhaps one thing that serves to tOBkii many think there is
more difference between a power and a property, than what
there really is, is this ; we give properties particular names?
but we do not powers. We say of a muscle, it has the pow-
er of contracting, and we say it has the property of contract-
ing: this property we give the nan.e of contractility^ and
ipeak of the property of contractility ; but the power of con-
Hractility is an expression not in use

Ffom what has been said, it appears that in metaphysical
disquisitions, we might very well dispense with the word/^oxo-
4r ) for we cannot give it any more meaning than we give the
word property ; and the reasons we have for saying a body
possesses a power, are no more than the reasons we have for
saying it possesses a property.

A pawer is neither an agent nor an action, an agent at rest^
nor an agent acting ; but merely to cxpresb the simple fact,
that, under certain circumstances) a certain change of A is im«

S3

mediately and invariably succeeded by a certain change of
B ; fo less words than these, we use the word powers and say
that A has the power of producing a change in B. But it
would be as philosophically correct to say A has the propertt/
of producing a change in B«

It may he asked why a certain change of A is immediately
and invariably succeeded by a certain change of B, under
certain circumstances ? To this question, the only and the
sufficient answer that can be given, is, such is the fact ; or
such is the taw of nature ; or such is the. will of the Great
Architect. The two first answers differ only in sound, and
the last is like either of tliem, unkss it be supposed that the
Great Architect wills (and of course thinks of) the change of
B to follow immediately after the change of A, or did will
these particular changes to gccur in this very order, at some
former period*

It must be remembered, that in those cases in which it is
known and admitted that two events occur in immediate con-
nection, none but boys will attempt to explain why the subse-
quent event follows the antecedent. To explain the connec-
tion between any two events, is nothing more nor less than to
point out intervening events, and the order in which they oc-
cur; but in case one event immediately follow another, there
are no intervening events to be pointed out, of course, no ex-
planation to be given.

To illustrate what we have here said, suppose a man strikes
a ball, and the ball moves ; now if it be asked why his striking
the ball is followed by a motion of the ball, no explanation
can he given, and no answer can be given, except that such is
the fact, or law of nature. But if the ball move on and knock
down a pin, and it be asked why his striking the ball is follow-
ed by the fall of the pin, the answer, the explanation is, be^
cause the bail moved on and hit the pin« Here you see there

24

is an intervening event (the motion of the ball) to be pointed
out, and of cojrse some explanation to be given.

But in some instances in which one event succeeds anoth-
er, it is not easy to determine whether they occur in imme-
diate connection or not ; hence a man may sometimes at-
tempt to. explain the connection between two events when
there is no explanation to be given ; a man too who would
not think of attempting to show why one event follows anoth-
er, knowing that they occur in immediate succession* We
believe, however, it more frequently happens that men think
that they have arrived at ultimate facts or laws ofnatureg
when a further analysis might be made, if they only knew all
that is to be known.

When a man has discovered to a certainty what events in*
tervene between two obvious and well known events, and in
what order these intervening events occur, he may state what
he has discovered \ and rach statement is an explanation of
the connection between the two obvious events : it is telling
why the first obvious event is followed by the second, in one
sense of the word why. It is also telling what he knows, and
IS mere history. Whereas, when a man does not absolutely
know what events intervene between two obvious events, but
knows of facts which render it probable that certain events
do intervene ; he may state what he supposes these events
are, and the order in which he supposes they occur ; and this
statement is an explanation of the connection between the
two events; but it is hypothetical, or indeed an hypothesis,—
an hypothesis supported by facts* But if a man suppose the
existence of events, or agents, when there are no fact& but what
may be as well explained without supposing such events to oc-
cur, or such agents to exist, as with, — why, hl^ suppposition
is a groundless hypothesis, or more properly, a whim.

By general consent, the ^ov^pheiwmenon ia now used in

«^-»

is

^cb a broad ffense, that we should not mucti ettend its meatt«
ing. were we to say a phenomenon !« ai.y knozen occurrence
or event. Us^ing the word in this sense^ we should «•»} (hnt,
to explain a phenomenon, is to point out the agent which acts^
the action of which constitufes tbe pT)en7>mcnon, and to point
out those events which invariably precede it, or are es^iuial
to its occorrence.— A feeling is a phenomenon or event ^bich
we know takes place ; it is an action of that which feels ; and
to explain this phenomenon, is to show what feels, whe*
tber the nervous system or some agent distinct from it, and
to show what gives rise to — what events must precede this-*-
feeliOg. Ail explanations of the phenomenon of feeling must
be hypothetical, for the action [the agent actingll which con-
stitutes a feeling, is not an object of sense ; we cannot K)ok
ioto the animal system and see it feelings as we can look into
«OTa« pieces of truchanu^al machmery and Bee the parts mov
ing, and (foe order in wtiict^ ike^t: partM act otte upon another
or one Sifter the otben However, the supposition that the
nervous system feels, m&y be so well supported^by facts, that
those who know these facts, can no more doubt, as we think)
that this supposition is correct, than the astronomer can doubt •
the ^upposition that the earth turns on its own axis.

To explain phenomena, then, is to show what agents act,
and the order in which they act. This is all. VVhen it is
knovsn that one event immediatehf succeeds another, it would
be even more absurd to ask why ? than to ask what hydrogen
is composed of.

Mow it is evident, that to show correctly the order in which
the events of any chain or sequence occuri we must point
oat ail the events of such chain ; tor if we do not point out
alt the links of this chain, we leave out some one or more
links, and this brings two links together, wbicfa, in natarei do

4

t9

Mot come together. Suppose the events A, B. Cl>, too<^
eur in the order in which the::e letters, their represent ativeSy
berB&tand, and that after D a more obvious and remarkahle
event occurs^ which we call a phenomenon, and repree^ent hj
E, — now if you be requested tu explain the connection be*
tween the event E and the event A, or as s«)me might perhaps
saj, to show how the event A gives rise to the event E, or to
explain the phenomenon E. you have nothing to do but to
point out the intervening events in the order in which they
occur. If you do this correctly, you will sa^ the event B
occurs immediately after A, C immediately after B, D after
C, and then E. But if you do not discover C, yon bring B
and D together, which is not the order ni which they Q|:cur ia
nature.

IVhat is a rause^ and what an effect ? It is obvious, that in

•A

any one chain or succession of events, no one pv^^nt caw tm*
mediately precede, any monntiHir^ne of the other events, nor
succeed any more than one of ibem. Now that event which
immediately precedes another event, is the true and phiiuso-
phical cause of such other ivent, and such other event is the
true and philosophical tfecl of such cause. However, in fa-
miliar discourj^e we ollen say that one thing is the cause of
another, when indeed several events— even known events —
intervene between the two which we mention, as cause and
eiTect*

A cause is generally defined to be an event which is imwie-
diately^ and under the same circumstances, invariably suc-
ceeded by a certain other event. This is a very good defnii-
tion of a cause, but we beJie\e it is lather redundant; for
that event which is immediaUly followed by a certain other
event, is always followed by ihi same event, under the same
•u cuinsUuiccs \ ui course, toiaicdiaie aultcedeDt» are also ia^

fli

87

famUe antecedentfl, under the same circumstances, and may
be iiriderstood %» such.

The term final cause^ is a bad one, as it does not at first ex*
4ite such ideas as intended ; a person who has learnt the mean-
ing of the word 6nal, ai^d the common meaning of the word
cause, mig^it look at these two words standing together^ and
Est his brain« a fortnight before such idens would occur as the
iermfineU cause is intended to excite, or more properly sug*
gest. A final caut^e is the purpose, end, or design for which
anj thing is formed.

it 18 a universal fact or law of nature, that like causes or
antecedents, as ttiey are sometimes called, are always follow-
ed by like consequents or effects, circumstances bemg the
same. The application of a sp;irk to gunpowder is an event
which te followed by the expk)sion of the powder, (which is
auottier event,) at atl times and plarcn; provided the powder
be good, dry, &g. whtc)) X)e\iig gu«»d. di^^ &c. are what come
under the denomhmilon of circumstances.

Now \i is by experiencing this uniformity in the succession
of events that we are enabled to predict what will be, by
knowing what is or has been. If events took place without
any kind of order, then z^hat mmm^Ini no sign of what will be ;
and we may further add, if e\ents took place thus, the words
power cause ^^uA effect would never have been invented.

To discover the constitution of any body or agent, is not on*
ly to discover what material elements it is composed of, but
to discover its relatioo with other bodies ; that is, to discover
what changes it may produce in other bodies, and what chan-
gcf« it may suffer by the presence oi other bodies. When we
di^co\er thes<', we disicovcr its powers and susceptibilities, or
in one word, its properties. Now it appears to us, that the
euiy proper objects ol physical inquiry may be expressed ii

the^e few words,— to discover the constitution of agents and
the enter it) which iheyact^one after another. ' '

h hit is nature ? Ignorance ha« given rsc to many tbtngtess
Bantes, and these name.* have so long constituted a part ot our
languHge, that it is almost impossible to converse without us-
ing fliem ; hue so long is we use them, we ought to acknow-
ledge that t\^y mean nothing, or else use them to denote
something that has, perchance, got a more appropriate name^
and show distinctly w^iat this something is. We had better
give one thin^; two or three names, than to suppose that two
or three things exi<«t. whi-.t o..iv one exists. Mitureis not the
God of nature ; but it is a word which means nothing, unless
it means the same as (he word universe* This bcmg the on-*
ly intelligible meamng (of course the only meaning, for what*
ever iM unintelligible with i>«, 4iteHti!( nothing with us.) ^^hich
tht wora can liave, it follows that whatever is natural is uni«
ver»al. T»ut nature of oprmrr, Thanls^lticTrntural quaiideh of
opium, aie universal i|na!ities of opium; ihey are qualities
that belonij to — and indeed constitute a part of — opium, when-
ever and wherever opium is to be found ; theretoie we say
tbey are essential to it, and every body which does not pos-
sess these qualities is not opium. A naturat event ts a» event
of the universe ;— it is an action of some part or parts of :he
universe — entirely so, and independently such ; ti is noi an
action of some part of the universe caused, connected with, or
iihnrfediately preceded by an act of Divinity. If it were, it
would not he a natural event ; for although it be an aclion of
a part of nature, it would be caused by an imniediatc act of
Dature^s God^' and would be what we call a miracle. All
those productions called artificial, are trutv naiuial ; we on-
ly use the word artificial to show that thev were produced by
the iiiterveiitiouof the • (oral operations of i hat natural crea-
ture, man, or some other uatural, (kinking being*

" Law of nature." — Does iliisi expression mean anyihing?
We Will leii you, render, whalwc thi ik ofiliis expicosioi. [t
is a/i expression, often convenient, which means nothing ni(»re
tfaan the expresskon universal fact ^ that is,* a fact which iioidi
universally. It itt a fact that, under the same circnmstai)reS|
like antecedents are followed by like consequents. T»iih fuct
holds true universaHy ; it is not so at one time or in one place,
and not in another ; it is so throughout the globe, and a^ we
bedeve, throughout the universe: it is a law of nature. A
law of nature is not au entity or being of any kind and fosaj
that laws of nature ^o^ovem, is to^peak fiii^nrativt ly. The im-
materialists tell us that the laws of mind, or the laws of nature
nrhich govern the mind, or the operatious of the mind, are to-
tally different from the laws of matter. But admitting the
existence of mind, they can only mean that the mind ma} act
'wubout being iiifldkenced by impulse, attraction, &c. Let us
not be bewi\dereA A\\4 U»H »^fra} by the ambiguous and sense-
Ie:»> phrases of the immateriahKts. No doubt aome things can
wiih truth be said concerning the actions of (he nervous sys-
tem wh (h cannot with truth be said concerning the actions
•f iuorgauic bodies*

CHAPTER IV.

On Deity^ and the Relation ahich subsists between the Creator

and the Events of the Universe.

Our notions are, that the Author of nature is an Almighty,
intelligent Being, consisting of more than one property, and
hence material ; that he has somedrtinite pl'^ce of existence,
and no more exists in two places at a lime, than any oihei one

60

being ; that be organized the universe, either ont of amor^
phous matter which prevlousi}' came info being without ao
antecedent, or else spoke the word, and a worKl arose ; the
matter thereof not previously existing. In either case, wft
believe the Great Architect so organized the universe, that it
continues in harmonious operation without anj further exer*
tions on his part, — without his imcnediate agency. Hence,
although the Supreme is the^r^^ cause of all tliat we behold^
lie is not, as we maintain, the immediate cause of any natural
event. But if human eye ever witnessed an unnatural event,
8uc-h e\ent was a miracle, and was immediately preceded or
caubcd by an aci of the Deity*

We do not believe the Deity ever intended, or thought of
tvery particular event which has and will take place ; for
this would be to believe that he intended or thought of every
motion of every grain of sa:id, of every motion of every leafi
of every thought of every braiD« of ev^t^ at-tion of every in^
sect ; in short, of every action of every agent which ever ex*
ifited, or ever will exist.

But we do believe that, at the time he organized the uni«
Ypri^e, he did intend, and of course think of, some of the more
im; ortant events which have and will occur. He inteiideil
that the heavenly bodies should revolve as they do. and con*
sequently that there should he cold seasons and warm — seed
time and harvest ; that animals should propa^sate their spe*
cies, — that plants should bring forth seed, each after its owa
kind ; — that all men should die ; — that the nervous system
should feel and think. &c. &c. Nevertheless, we do not be-
lieve that any event, important or trifling, ever did occur
which the Deity intended should not occur.

We believe that in organizing the universe, the Deity had
eertaiu im^ortanl ojjtcu iu view ^ and that he »o orgaoizsd

- 31

it as to fulfil these objects or designs. And ftlthongh miiny
trifling events o cur, by virtue of this organization, which
Were not thought of at the time, still we do rot believe that
they occur contrary to (he good pleasure of ihe Almighty:
certainly not contrary to his permission ; and we should thnik
that an Almighty Being would not permit events to occur
which displease [make unhappy] him. At any rate, if, in this
stupendous machine, — the universe, — any events occur which
displease the Creator, it would be blasphemy for man to talk
of bJame and culpability ; for certainly the fault, if there be
one, is not in the pot. but the potter. *

I know that mankind have ever been a proud race of ani«
mals; and although they daily see other classes of animals
Buffering pain, sickness and death, men got it into their heads,
thousands of years ago, that the Deity never intended, and
is dW^leased at, whatever gives rise to human misery 5 or in
other words, at whatever they call evil. But as events did
occur which these ancient men called evil, they put their head
to work to account for the origin of this evil, and the result
was, a hideous world of fallen angels, devils, and evil spirits,
all of them enemies of God, warring against him to obtain ha«
man souls!!

But 1 am wandering from my subject ; I did not purpose to
treat of devils, but to offer my notions relative to the Deity,
and the relation which subsists between h m and the events of
the universe* Some of these notions 1 have already advan«
ced, and ! now proceed to offer some of my reasonings 111. fa-
Toroftheih.

I have expressed the opinion that Nature's God is an Al-
mighty Designer. He is Almighty, inasmuch as there is none
superior to h»m, and tie may have jvist what agents exist, and
ju!«t what events occur, he pleases. By willing it, he may
create a new world or anniliiiate au old one, — at least, 1 will

♦not deny that he can annihilate matter. But it U not wtthia
the ir.'fiW*' o^|.los^ibiliti^s forany hciuiij to cause ihe s^iiu' th'.ig
to exist and not to exjst Rt the same time, or tocanse on«» ^ud
the r«anne beinsjto be m two separate places at the same ttrne.

I 8ay he is a De^isjner, hfcaiisc there is, to me. incontrover-
tible evidence of design in the natural productions -which I
behold. When I examine the several parts of the h«fnan sys-
tem, — as the muscles, the ear, the eye ; and when I consider
thf powers of human bein^^s to move, to sense, to think* a. id
to proprtj^atc their species, I can but believe that the first man
and woman were organized by a power who intknued
that they should move, see, feel, think, and propagate their
species.

I may indeed be told, that if I discover indications of an in-
tellfgent Designer in natural productions, I had as good say
these productions came by chance, (that is without cause,)
as to suppose the existence of a Maker ; for the maker of a
thing must be superior to the thing made ; and the more pow-
erful and knowing a being is, the more difficult is it for us to
udmit, that such being should exist without cause ; and we
must ultimately arrive at a being which does exist without
Cause, let us suppose as many Makers as we please.

But I would reply: First. The heavenly bodies are but
parts of otie system, — the unrverse. These parts bear such
relations to each other, as we have good reason to believe, that
there would be great irregularity and confusion in their move-
ments if any of *hem should he annihilated or misplaced ;
hence we may say that it is. and was at first, essentially neces-
sary to the regularity in the movements of these bodies, that
they all exist at one time as they now do. Now chance is
nothing, and a nothing in one region of space canU know what
& nothing in a distant region is about ; hence, to pwvent con-
fiisioD) and to bring the universe into its present states one in-

93

dividual nothing mast have knocked the whole univene into
be'o^ at one blow ! ! If nothing made one part of the uhiverse
at one time, and afterwards found out that it did not go well,
and then made another part, to complete the system, — this
nothing or chance (I care not which you call it,) must have
leen a very strange nothing; for to ^^Jind otU^^ supposes
thought — a thought implies the existence of something which
thinks — and a thinking something, but for which the universe
had not been organized, is the Deity. Second, if things ever
came by chance, i. e. without cause, and Aere be no control^
ler superior to man^ things may still come by chance,-— why
not ? If a man and a woman ever came into existence without
cause, why do not men and wom^ pop into existence with-
out cause now-adays ? No man can' be so big a fool as to believe
and assert, that some time or other a man decreed that no
men or women commence existence without cause, and that
ttiis is the reason why men and women do not thus commence
existence now-adays. Man is not the sort for this, — we must
have something difierent. — something superior. We know
that man cannot have things exist or not exist, as he may will
•rwish.

Do you tell me, atheist, that the laws of nature prevent
men and women from coming into existence without cause,
now-adays ? Aye, and what are your laws of nature ? Be they
any thing more or less than simple facts ? If they be. show
them to me, and I will show you a God. I do not wish to be
put o£r by empty talk ; but 1 will not be particular about
names. If your laws of nature are beings which control
events, which cause the existence of some things and prevent
the existence of others, and which oi^nized the first beings of
the human race in such manner that they could see, hear,
think, walk and propagate their species, you may call then)
Vj your favorite name, but I will call them God* But if they

S4

B* nothing but fart?, tell me, if you please, that the simple fact
that men and women do not come into existence without
cau^e now-adays, is the reason they do not thus come into ex-
btence, and I may perhaps believe you, if my brain should
ever be disordered*

The third notion which 1 have advanced, relative to the
Peity, is, that he is material, in saying this, I only mean
that he pos8esfcei>, or rather consists of, more than one proper^'
ty. It appears to us that a being, an accent, or entity, which
is unextendcd, is just no being at all. Think, readep, do but
think, if you can, of a being that is of no extent. The smal-
Itst mote that may be seen by the most powerful microscope^
is more than ten hundred thousand million times as large as
such a being? Gracious! It is as great a perversion of lan-
guage to say that a being ( xisIs which is unextendcd, as t0
say that thMhing can be and not be, a; the same time.

No man ran ever have an idea of a being which is unex-
tended. But this, the immaterialists will tell me, proves no*
thing. Well, grant it, if they will have it so ; but I will tell
them in m} turn, that their stating that (here may be an un-
extendcd BEING, proves nothing, — only that the} are labor-*
int; to support soim* rotten cause, it is contrar}' to scripture
to say the Deit> is unextended ; the scriptures no where tell
ijH a word about uih xtended being« ; — there is nothing in them
that lavgrs modern immnterialism. But stop, am 1 not beat-
ir»i5 against the wind ? Have any philosophers ever pretend*
cd that the Deity is unextendcd ? I do not know that thej
h»\e expressly ; but it is geneially held that the Deity is im-
iri'i^erial, and modern immatenalistshold that whatever is im-
ri'tcrial, is unextendcd. i wish the immaterialists would
r'ear up this matter. — If the Deity consist of extension only,
be i? nothing but space ; hence we say he is material.

iHj fourth notion is, that the Deity ha^ bOaie definite place

pf existence, and no more exists in two places nt ihe 9fimft
time, thaa any.otherone being. To say the Deilj exists ia
two places at the same time, ia in reality as much as to say
there are two Deities, or at least, that the Deity is not ono
B«'ing, but two separate beings. However, w hen I say a he*
ing exists in ap/ace, I mean by this place, all (hat room whirh
the being, ai one continuous body, occupies. 1 should saj
the atmosphere of this earth exists in one place only, admit*
ting it to be one coniinuous body. 1 should say that a house
exists in a place, but if there were two separate bodies in the
house, f should say that one is oite plnce, and the other in
another place. B<it from what I have now said, it does not
follow but that a part of the Deity may be in Europe^ wh«le
another part is in America ; but these parts must be unitt^d
together by intermediate parts, or else they are lu reality two
be\u^8.

I say theearthis in one place, and the moon in another; noW
urotiid li not be poJyfheism to aj^sert that the Deity exists in
both the^e places at the same time? The Deity \s the whoU
Dcily, and if the Deity exist in the earth, then the whole Dtily
exists in the ear'h ^ and if the whole Deity exist in the earth,
and the whole Deity exist in the moon, at the same time, then
we have two Deities ; — not the same Deity in two places at
different times, but two Deities in different places at the same
time. T<ie Deity then does not(xist in two places at the
same time ; but this is not saying; he does not fill all space ;--*■
by the bye, however, if he did fill all space, there would he
no space to fill, for where matter is, space is not : msHter maj
be surrounded by space, but space and matter cannot be in
the same place at the same time. Space is the negative of
oiatter.

Now if. to maintain that the Deity is not in two or mcfcplar
iks at ih€ suTM tiine^ is not tU« 6aui« a* to maintain thai n9

3$

part of him u every where present^ T will now proceed to main-
tain this last ; that is, to maintain that the Deity is not of such
Tast dimensions, that, go where you will, some part of him
will always be there.

The doctrine that the Deity exists every where, not only
Virtually but substantially, is of modern origin. There are
hundreds of passages in scripture which speak of the Deity
as a Being of determinate dimensions, to one which speaks
of him as a Being who fills immensity or all space. And if in
a few instances the scriptures speak of the Deity as though he
were of unlimited dimensions, (it is impossible to conceive
any limits to space,) we have no reason to regard these few
passages as any other than figurative expressions : we have
no reason to suppose the writers of them would be understood
to suppose that the Dctity is so large that if there were Jess
space than there is^ there would not be room for the Deity to
exist as he now is. No — they would only be understood to
mean that the Deity can behold all his creation ; that, though
seated on his throne in heaven, he knows full well what is go«
ing on in every part of his stupendous machine, the universe.

I know that philosophers of old have held that ^'the uni-
verse is an emanation or extension of the essence of the Crea-
tor.^' Bui what is this '^ essence of the Creator ?^' and
wherein does an emanation of a material world from the es-
sence of the Creator, difler from an absolute creation by the
Creator? Did this essence contain all the matter that now
exists ? If it did. it was a very gross essence ; if it did not,
there must have been an absolute creation. But waving the
further consideration of this matter, 1 proceed to state, — the
created universe is something distinct from the Creator, or it
18 not. If it be, let its dimensions be what they may, it does
not follow that its creditor must be of equal dimensions ; but
if the universe be nothing (listinci from its Creator, then the

37

Creator and the thing created, are but one thing ; or rather,
there is no Creator. — Poets have sung :

^^ Jupiter is the air ;
Jupiter is the earth ;
Jupiter is the heaven :
^11 is Jupiter."

But what is this bu^ a freak of a poet's brain, or downright
atheism f ^ All is Jupiter V^ The heavens, the earth, the sun,^
moon and stars, and all that ia them or about them is, are Ju-
piter. I am a part of Jupiter, and you are another pai*t.— *
Let us not be deceived by empty talk ; — when one thing is
called by several names, let us not so err as to suppose that
each name has a peculiar thing of its own : Jupiter is some-
thing distinct from the universe, (as 1 have defined it,) or else
JupiUrh a name without a thing. God, the Creator, is some*
tbing distinct from the universe created, or there is no Crea*
tor nor world.crealed -, but a world by chance*

It appears, then, that all true aud real Deists of ancient
times, did not hold that the Deity exists every where, substan*-
tially as well as virtually ; and this doctrine, as I have said,
is of modem origin.

But the authority of the bible, and the opinions of ancient
Deists, are not all I have to offer against the absolute omni-
presence of God.

The notion is unfounded, ridiculous and degrading. It
arose from &ithlessness in God's omnipotence. Thinking it
impossible for God to sit on his throne in heaven, and know
what is going on in every part of his machine ; thinking, al«
so, that God is too powerless an architect to organize the uni-
verse in such a manner that all things may go on in it as har-
moniously as they do without his looking to it — ^,without his
immediate agency, — somebody, I do not know who, advanced
the notion that God is every where present, upholdmg and

»;

38

revolving the heavenly bodies, shooting forth vegetables, crvlSt
ing animals to be, operating upon the human heart, &r.. &c.

But only think what an irreverent notion this is. *^ God is
every where present;" that is» God is not only where space
otherwise would be, but God is in every mess of matter. The
atmosphere is one nr^.ess or body of matter ; God is in this.
Each individual ^tone is another body of maHer ; God is ia
every one of these :-- •! say God. This is impossible, unless
there be millions and millions of Gods : I can only mean a
part of God. And if there be such a devil as is talked of,

■■ Let us examine the full extent and bearing of eve-

ry doctrine, entirely unsupported by facts, before we give it
•redenoe.

As to the dimensions of that Being who " created man af-
ter his own image," I cannot say ; but the, God of the Old
Testament is represented to be very much of the size and
shape of a man ; and the same we find to be the case with
his Son, so frequently mentioned in the New. Judging from
these data, the Author of nature very much resembles the hu-
man species in shape ai*d si^e !

My fifth notion is, that God has so organized the universe,
that all parts pf it — all agents, go on acting in the same har-
monious order in which they do, without any further exertions
on his part ; or if you do not like the word exertiom^ without
any further concern or willing ^ and, of course, that he is not
the immediate cause of any natural event, though he is the
^r<>/ cause of all, — ^if it be proper to call that a cause which is
not immediatelif followed by what we call the eflfcct.

Tins notion appears to me much more rational and dignify*
wg, if I may so say, than the notion that the Deity is the im«
mediate cause of natural events. Were we to adopt this last
notion, several strange and irreverent conclusions must neces-
sarily follow* We must conclude that the Doity ca^ldmiti^

139

•rg^nize the universe as to have it go on as it doe?, independ- .
entlj of himself, which would be much the most simple and
direct way of bringing about events ; or we must conclude^
contrary to all our notions of naturc^s simplicity, that he did
Bot choose to ; but rather chose to be continually in exercise
to make water jrun down hill, to make it thunder, to makci
ihe fire snap, to make the brain think, to make the earth re«
Toive, to make one man kill another, &c« &c.

I have here mentioned events, some of wl^ich men would
eall important ; some, they would call trifling, and one, they
would call evil. But I should hope that in these enlightened
days, no man can be found who will be so irrational as to as-
Bcribe natural events to more than one source ; — no man wbd
will ascribe some to the laws of nature — some to ttie imme-
diate agency of the Deity, and some to the devil. Bui I trust
that every well informed man who questions, whnt ia the
truth ? and not, what will it be to my interest to maintain ? will
either say (here is no main-spring— -no motive principle in na'
ture— every thing b^ing a dead mslrument, which never
moves except the Deity lay his hands upon it ; or else say
that all created things were so made, at first, as to act as they
do, independent of the Creator. If he say the latter, he will
meet with no difficulties but what proud man has created.-—
But if he say that God wills ever particular event at the tin.e
it occurs, he will meet with insuperable difficulties. Not to
say a word about representing the Deity as a poor Architect,
and a slave to his own creation, he will be forced lo admit,
(what he cannot believe,) that there are millions and millions
of Divine wills, or else that one Divine will, may will millions
and millions of billions of trillions of particular and distant .
events, at the same identical in^itant.

If God were the immediate producer of events, why all this
nice organization in mart and other animaU ? could he uotj

4Q

were He to attend to it^ make an inorganic statue of clay
think, move, and propagate its species ? Do you tell me it
» was God's good pleasure to bring about his ends by certain
means ? This is just what I say* That men might be contin*
iially coming info existence without His being continually en-
gaged in making them, Hei oi^anized a man and a woman in
such a manner that they could propagate their species. That
men might think without His continual exertions, He made
the first man with a nervous system ; and now, d'ye see, as
soon as this nervous system becomes, by any means, impair-
ed, thinking ceases, or goes on irregularly. But 1 suppose
that by an immediate and direct effort of the Deity, thinking
might go on in a man, if he had a poor nervous system, or even
aone at all.

Need 1 use any more words to convince every rational and
disinitresUd man, that God takes no part whatever m the pro*
ductioQ of natural events ?

But it may be asked, if supernatural events or miracles
have not, and do still occur, on or about this little globe of
t>urs ? Wp reply, that it is far Irom us to deny the power .of
(he Deity to interrupt the ordinary course of nature, and of
being himself the immediaU antecedent or cause of events
that would not follow natural antecedents ; neither would we
deny that men have existed who, being ignorant of the laws
and properties of matter, witnessed phenomena which they
eouM not explain, and which they ascribed to the immediate
agency of the Deity, the devil, or of witches. But 1 think it
an important question that must interest every man, and ought
not to be settled without the most impartial examination of all
that cao be said on both sides of it : — ^Which is the most ra«
tion^l supposition, that a man should live three days in a
whale's belly, walk unhurt through a fiery furnace, raise the

41

dead, &e. &c. or tliat one, two, or half a dozen men sbould
teUalie?

■«a0

CHAPTER V.

On Action or Change*

It will be admitted on all hands, that no event or change, of
anj ktud whatever, can take place without action : — not a
sensation or a thought can occur without an action of that
which senses and thinks* True, it is difficult for us to con-
ceive how a few rays of light falling upon the retinae of one^a
ejes, can excite a change in his optic nerves and brain, and,
as some would add, io his soul or mind ; but we do know, if
we know any thing, that we see objects, when we are in such

«

relations with ihem that they may reflect light upon our eyes,
and we cannot otherwise than believe that this seeing is aa
action of that which sees.

ft

If, then, no change can take place without action, nor any
action without change, we may consider change and action as
convertible terms. For sound^s sake, we may sometimes use
the one and sometim,e£» the other.

Now an action is nothing other than an agent acting, and
as there are wide differences between agents, as it respects
size, properties and relations with each other ; and moreover,
as we believe there are two classes of actions essentially dif«
ferent from each other* we shall attempt to give a classifica*
tion of a z tions or changes.

_ •

♦ The reader may be surprised to hear me speak of an essFntial
diflf'rence becween actions ; but does he not believf* that thont* ac-
tions which cnnsiitute thinking, are essentially different from <»nT
actions of inorganic bodies ? He may admit that they aie| but still

6

42

Were we to class actions according to their merdial ditfcf*
onces, we should have two divisions only. Onedivisioo
would comprehend all those actions which constitute sensing
and thinking, or if you please, sensations and thoughts ; and
We should call them sentient or conscieni actions* This kind
of actions is invariably confined to the nervous systent.

The other division would comprehend all other actions in
the universe ; and we should call them insentient or incon*
scient actions, in contradistinction to conscient actions.

But we proceed to make an arrangement ofactions accord-
ing to ttie agents which act. Hence our first division is into

insiiitoii it, thflt an action of any agent whatever, can be nothing
other than a change of place, or. v^hrit is the same thmg, change of
rekition with sfime other agent or being ; and that when we say
oiie action is esaeoiiaily different from another, we can mean noth*
ine more than that the agents which act are essentially difierent
from each other. Well, supposing we grant this ; then the qiies*
tion is : Was it the determination ot the Great Architect that ac*
tionsofa material organ c^hould constitute what we call thinking,
or thftt actions of some immaterial thing should constitute thinking f

If we admit the existence of this immaterial thing, we can no
more conceive that an action a( it is any thing other than a change
of place or of relation with something else than we can conceive
that an action t>f tease part of the brato is any thing other than a
change of relation with some other part —(We are here speaking
of very minute '^ parts of the brain.")— -Should it be said lliat this
immaterial ihmg does not change Its place, or its relation with any
p;*rt of the brain when it thinks ; but that its parts change their re-
lations with each otht'r; I should reply, that immaterialists hold
that this immaterial thing (inind or soul) has no p^rts ; and I ifth«»uld
aay, forthermt»re, that admitting it to have pans, we can no more
conceive hi>w a change of relation amtmg these parts should consti-
tute thinking, than we can how a change of relation between the
thing itself, and some part of the brain, should constitute think ng ;
or than we <;jBn. bow an action of a material organ, the brain, should
constitute thinking*

Perhaps you. reader, (whom I take to be an immaterialist,) have
still something more to offer. You may say that,->admitting there
is no gheat impropriety in speaking of an t$9ential difference be*
twceu actional if we mean more particularly thai there is au e««<i»*

4«

loeoiMttTC or bodUy errfioiwand atomic actions^ LocomotiV&
•ction appertaitts to iKxiieft, or perceptible combinatiooB of at*
oois which mo^e as a. whole, or in other words, the atoms of
matter which compose the body do not change their relation!
with each other, but ail move one way — ^the body itself, moves
as one thing only. — All the atoms which compose the body
change Uieir relation with some other separate body', but, at
I hare said, not with each other.

The other dirision comprehends all those actions m wfaicft
the atoms of any lK>dy change their relations with each oth«b»

Of atomic actions we have three orders :»-the actions of at*
oms which compose gaseous bodies >— the actions of atoma

Hal difiereoce between the agenu which act f still there is sqeh %
wide difllerence between thinking « and the actions wbtph take piacf
out of the skull, that we must suppose there is a wider difference
between the agent which tbiuks, and agents out of the skull, than
ihi'Te 1ft between the brain and agents out of the skull ; mferring
from hence, that there is some thinking agent iii a man's head be*
aides the brain. But, sir, yon must know that the nervous sys-
Cedi, of whifsh the brain is a part, is v^ry essentially different frooi
any thing to be founci out of the animal system ; and moreovec,
thatttie physiologist cin bring a host of facts which show mostcon«
elosively, that it it the brain which thinks, whatever may be saii
to the contrary not whhstanding.

Finally, let no man think to argue against materialism, by telling
me that it is inconceivable how an action of the brain should be
what we call a thought, notion, or idea, until be can show me fun^
ii is that an action of an immaterial thing shouM be a thought.— t
Should he attempt to do this, he will 9000 find himself CDmpelled
to say ,«*it was the will of Gtod Almighty that it should be so.-*
I^bicb is jost the same answer that J must give.to the question,— ^
How is it that an action of the brain should constitute a thought f

The question, IFhat it ii thai Uiink» \ is not to be determined
by cooceivabh»s or inconceivables ; if it were, it would certainly be
determin«*d at once, that it is the brain which thinks ^.for it is ro|
only as conceivable that actions oi the brain should constitute
thinking, as that actions of an immaterial, unexlentied ! thing should
constitute thinking ; but the fshttt^tee. of (his immnterial thing if
inconceivable, whereas it reqoiries no very great stretch of one'tf
jbitfa to admit that a bram exists S

44

which compose liquid bodies, and the actidns of those whieh
constitute solid bodies. If we must distinguish these three
divisions of actions by particular appellations, we can think
of none but the following bungling ones, viz. Gaseous Atom*
ic Actions, Liquid Atomic Actions, and Tcxtural Actions.

The order of textural actions we will divide into three ge-
nera. The first genus comprehending the atomic actions of
•lastic bodies ; the second, the atomic actions of contractile
bodies, and the third, the atomic actions of sensible bodies,
^the nervous organs.] Let us say a few words in this place
about these different bodie:) or textures.

The elastic texture is to be found in the kingdom of inor-
ganic matter^and in the kingdom of organized beings. The
mainspring of a watch is elastic ; every bough in the woods
is elastic > a piec^ of cartilage is elastic. But what is einsti-*
city, or, iii other words, when and why do we say a body ia
elastic ? Answer : When the particles or atoms of matter
which compose any body-are forced from their relations with
each other, by mechanical force^ and still retain a tendency —
Q manifest tendeticy to return to their former relations, the
body which they compose is said to be elastic, or (for sound's
eake,) to possess elasticity.

As to the contracile texture, it is to be found only in or-
ganized bodies, both vegetable and animal. It is not very
manifest in the vegetable kinj^dom. We find it in the sensi'
tive plant, and have good reason to suppose that it exists in
the circulating vessels of all plants. It is very manifest in
animals, and constitutes the principal part of those organa
called muscles. — But what is contractility, or in other words^
when and why do we say a body is contractile ?

Answer: When the atoms which compose any body ap-
proach each other more closely in any one direction, on the
application of a ainmlwj we say such body is contractile, or

45

pofsesfies contractility ; and this approaching of atomB — thia
sboriening of the bod}' — is called contraction. But what 18
a stimulus ?

When any agent excites [when the application of any agent
isfoliowed by] a contraction of a muscle — not b^ mechauical
force, but by virtue of the oi^nization of the muscle — such
agent is caUed a stimulus.

Some men call those agents which excite conscient actions
of the nervous system, stimuli ; thus tliey speak of the stimu-
lus of tight, the stimulus of sound, &c But there is no neces-
sity for, but some impropriety in, using the word in this double
sense. Those agents which excite conscient actions may be
called excitants*

As to the sensible texture, it is to be found only in the ner^
Yous system; but we would not be understood to say that
every pari ot ih» nervous system is sensible, nor would we
say ihalouVy conscient actions occur in the nervous system*
On the contrary, we believe that two other kinds of actions
take place in that system of organs which is called by the com-
prehensive term, nervous system. One of these kind of ac-
tions we call the secretoty actions^ and the other, the motive ac-
tions ; but as it is probable that the secretory action is an ac-
tion of the contractile texture, and as we cannot speak of the
motive anions of the brain to advantage in this part of the
work, we did not think it expedient to mentitin but three gene-
ra of textural actions.

But what is sensibility, or in other words, why do we say
the nervous system is sensible ? Answer : Because sentient
actions may be excited in it, by impressions upon the senses*

Further than this we say not, in this place, as sensibilityi
and sentient or conscient actions, will be fully treated of in
other parts of this work«

Wff have now sketched a classification of chaises or ac-

46

tfoTif f which we Irnow w not perfect ; but tofficiently so, to
au9wer our present designs*

The question now occurs, — What is iheprincipU but for
Which created agents would not act ? Doesthe D^ity contin-
uaily move one great wheel in the univene, which wheel
moves a second, and this a third, and so on, giving rise to ev*
ery action of every agent which acts at all ? Or did the Dei-
ty, when he created grosser matter, add thereunto a main-
spring, which is the moving principle of nature 2 We believe
in the mainspring, — and query : What is it ? and did any
man ever see or feel it ?

Many a man has both seen and felt it, and called it electri-
city. But for electricity, we believe that other forms of mat*
ter would never move, being otherwise constituted as tbejr
now are* i

We shall not attempt to point out the connection betweeii
electricity and all the various kinds of actions which are
known to occulr« Nor shall we ask why electricity causes
one body to attract another ; for this, we believe, would be
to question about an ultimate fact, of which, as of all other
vliimate bets, there is no explanation to be given.

We inay briefly state, however, that were it not for the
principle of attraction, matter would not unite with matter*
Animals, of course, would not exist, except they were every
one organized by the immediate fiat of the Deity ; and then,
the physiologist has good reason to suppose that they could
not move without the continual exercise of divine influence
towards them* And if it can be shown that the actions of an-
imals are dependent on this active principle, there will be no
great difficulty in tracing all changes to the same source.

But I have a conjecture relative to electricity which I wiR
venture to throw out. It is well known that caloric, or the
matter of heat, exiils in two very different states, — ^in tbatef

I .47

0,6, «^

freedooi, when it 19 capable of prodacio^ in animalt> th^ sen*
( k saiioD of heat abd of expanding almost all bodies ; and that of
nii> combination, iiMrhich it ceases to be cognizable by oar sen-
bf9 sesorfcj the tbennonieter* In the former rase, it is called
e^ fret or unconUnned caloric ^ in tbe latter, latenl^ or combined
)ef- caloilc*

lie* This free caloric has a tendency to an equilibritim, so that
■^t hot aoK^old bodies placed dear to each other, even in a ¥acu*
tf'.* DflOySOon become of the same temperature, as may be prov*
ed bj applying the bolb of the thermometer to each. They
wiH'each expand, and of course raise, the mercury to the:
same degree* It is known too, that ail bodies do not conduct
caloric with the same facility. Another fact is, that bodiei
may part with ihe'tr free caloric without suflering a:>y altera^
tion in 4hetr properties, temperature excepted ; but not so
with respeti to that caloric Which is intimately combined with
tbem, and which may bf» called their natural share. Tliit
natural share is an essential constituent of such bodies, and
if it be taken from them, they are no loiiger the same bodies^
inasmuch as they suffer some change in their physical or
chemical properties*

Now I conjecture that electricity exists in two states, aa
well as caloric,*-in one state it may be said to be free, or ex*
citable ; it is this free electricity that is collected by an elec*
trie machine, from surrounding bodies, without producing any
change in their physical or chemical properties. To be sure,
as the temperature of a bodv is altered by parting with its
free caloric, so by taking free electricity from any body, yoa
may alter iU relation with ariother body, as it respects remote
Of 6o(fcYy attraction ; but you do not alter its chemical affini«
ties oor the cohesive attraction of its constituent atoms.- It
may be said too, of electricity, as of caloric, that all bodies do
not couduct it witti the same facility \ and furthermore, that

4E

free electricity^ like free caloric, has a tendencf to an equiii*
briunu

In the other state id which electricity exists, It is intimate*
]y combined with bodies, of which it is indeed an essential
part, and cannot be taken from them without a change of their
physical or chemical properties ; — they are no longer the
same bodies, aAer parting with this, their inherent electricity.
Eiectricity existing in this state, tnay be called latent or^xe^f.

Now as latent caloric may be set free, so may electricitjT
be set free, and it is set free by the galvanic battery ; — the
plates and liquids, or moist substances, which compose the
battery, sufTering some change in their physical or chemical
properties at the time. I shall maintain also^ that it is set
free by the ner%'ous system, and constitutes the nervous fluid ;
the blood at the same time suffering some change in its phy-
sical or chemical properties by circulating through the ner-
vous system. But as it is accumulated and conducted by or-
ganized bodies, it is not to be wondered at, if it do not appear
to be in ail inspects the same kind of fluid that is accumulated
by the galvanic battery. — We do not believe there are any
elementary substances in man or any other animal which do
not exist in the world around them.

1 will here remark, that I am far from being convinced that
the weight of bodies of all kinds, is the same in proportion to
the quantity of gross matter which they contain, or in other
words, in proportion to their density.

Matter attracts matter, — the earth attracts all bodies to-
wards it, in a line passing, its centre : there refore we say that
bodies on or near the surface of the earth, are heavy. But I
believe that some kinds of matter are more forciblv attracted
by the earth than others, and hence that the difference in
weight between a cubic itxh ot gold and a cubic inch of steel
does oot depend altogether on the diHereuce between the

49

<\aantitie9 of matter which thej contain* t heliere so, first;,
because a ctjbic inch of steel appears to contain more than
about one third as much matter as f. cubic mch of gold — and
a cubic inch of iqe, or of hard, solid wood, appears to contain
more than one twentieth as much matter as a cubic inch of
gold ; — a cubic inch of cork appears to contain more than one
eightieth as much matter as a cubic inch of gold. Second :
We know that the chemical attraction of all kinds of matter is
not the same ; and we suppose that chemical attraction and
the attraction of gravitation, both depend u)pon one principle.
Third : I know of no fact that proves that an ultimate atom
of gold, or we'll saj of platinum, (as a body of this is of great-
er specific gravity than any other body,) is not heavier than
an ultimate atom of silver, or of any other kind of matter. I
know of a fact which has been thought to prove that the ulti-
mate atoms of aU kinds of matter are of the same weight, ad-
mitting them to be of the same size. The fact is this — ^^ Gold
may, by being dissolved in nitro-muriatic acid, and having
its solution transferred to ether, be made to remain equally
suspended in every part of this ether, which is the lightest of
all visible fluids.^'

But we know that in a minute particle of matter, there ti
infinitely more surface in proportion to the quantity of matter
which the particle contains, than in a larger body : we know
too, that liquids possess some degree of adheeive attraction*
Some portion of water (and undoubtedly of ether, until it evap-
orates,) will adhere to the sides of a glass or gold vessel which
stands upright. Now We believe that by virtue of this adhe*
sivencss, ether may buoy up minute particles of gold which
present a very large surface to be acted upon, in proportion
to the quantity of matter which the particles contain ; and
thus we account for this fact, which frees us from the necessi'"

7

50

ty of admitting that a piece of gold contains nearly three
time? as much matter as an equally large piece of the finest
and most compact steel.

CHAPTER VI.

On Uniovr-^Mechanical^ Chemical^ and OrganidtJK

Matter unites with matter in three different ways — mechan
ically, chemically, and organically. These three kinds or
modes of union are isstntially different from each other. This
we infer from the fact, that chemical union gives rise to pro-
perties which mechanical union does not, and organic union
gives rise to properties which never arise from mechanical or
chemical union. But in every case, certain things are neces-
sary, in order that matter may unite with matter. That mat-
ter may unite mechanically, the several quantities must be
brought in contact \ that chemical union may take place, the
several ingredients must not only be brought tpgether, but
they must be in dissimilar electric states, and one or more of
them must, in almost all cases, be either in a gaseous or fluid
state ; — that matter may unite organically, organized bodies
must previously exist. — We say, that as fire gives rise to fire,
where fuel is present, so does organization give rise to organ-
ization, where food and other necessaries are not wanting.

If 1 be asked how the first oiganized beings of each distinct
species came into existence, 1 answer, — God made them.

To instance a case in which mechanical union gives rise to
what we call a mechanical property : — take water and gum
arable, put them together, and viscidity will arise, which is a
mechanical prO|>eriy that did not before exist, either in the
water or the friable Mubbtauce, gumaiabic.-^By the chemical

51

union of sulphur and the elements of water, we have aciditt/
and several other chemical properties which did not before
exist, either in the sulphur, the oxygen, or the hydrogen. —
The compound arising from this union is considered more
important than the one arising from the mechanical union of
water and gum arabic ; hence a particular name is assigned to
it. It is called sulphuric acid, or oil of vitriol.

By the organic union of phosphorus, sulphur, lime, soda,
chlorine, oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, azote, electricity, and sev-
eral other elements, we have physiological or vital properties
which did not before exist in either of the separate elements*

We wish it to be remembered, that we do not suppose that
by union something more exists, but something uirFEiiLNT,
and hence someibnig new.

The most important, or at least the best known, physiolog-
ical properties that result from organic union, are sensibility
and contractility : the first a property of the nervous system ;
the last, a property of the muscular system.

Now the only reason we have in any case for saying a body
possesses a property, is because it may produce a change in
some other body, or suffer a change in itself from the action
of some other body. We ,do not suppose that sensibility is
any thing distinct from the nervous system, or any thing su-
peradded to it, any more than we suppose that acidity is
something distinct from vinegar or the oil of vitriol ; but we
say the nervous system is sensible or (meaning nothing more]^
possesses sensibility, beceiustconscient* actions may be excited
in it by impressions upon the senses*

* One reason, among others, for preferring^ the word conscient to
the word seotieot, is because the word sfutlent has bt^en applied to
actions of the nerves, — even the nerves of feelinjr. — only j-^bul we
mean by coDscient actions, certain actions of the nerves and braioi
one or both.

32

But what good reason tbe immaterialists have to say the
nervous system possesses sensibilitj, 1 cannot divine ; for
their '^ souP' or mind which they talk much, but know noth-
ing about, might be acted upon by impressions upon the sea«
ses, if the nervous system possessed no property difierent
from a piece of catgut, for aught any one can say to the con*
trary. They cannot say but that their naked soul, stuck on
to the end of a stick of timber, would hear the scratch of a pia
on the other end, as readily as when an ear, an auditory
nerve, and a part of a brain, intervene between the soul and
the timber ; yet no man would say a stick of timber possess-
es sensibility. According to the immaterialists, it is not the
nervous system that senses and thinks, but some immaterial
thing seated in the brain ; — why, then, in tbe name of reason,
do they say the nervous system possesses sensibility ?

I know that immaterialists have made a sentence by putting
together certain ambiguous words in a certain order, which
thtt/ call an aigument against materialism* Some of them
8ay,-^lt is impossible to conceive how intelligence can orise
from any union or motion of unintelligent atoms ; — others say,
it is impossible to conceive how sensibility can arise from any
motion or union of insensible atoms.

As to intelligence, I believe that the meaning of the word
is so far from being generally agreed on, that if five hundred
persons were to give each his own definition, no two would
Refine it precisely alike, I believe that^ as the word is gene-
fally used, it means nothing at all, or else means the same a$
the word knowledge ; and I believe a man's knowledge is no-
thing other than his sensorial tendencies. Hence a man may
have knowledge or intelligence when be is asleep; that isy
when he does not thmk. Now it is much more conceivable
that a material organ should have tendencies to act certain
actions, than it is that an unextended or inunaterial thing

&3

should have such tendencies. — The reader will discover what
we mean by sensorial tendencies, in another part of this
work ; and be will then see that the materialist does not
maintain that intelligence arises from any combination of unin-
telligent atoins.

As to sensibility, it is just as conceivable that this physio-
logical property should arise from the oi^anic union of insen-
sible atoms, as it is that acrdttj, or any other chemical pro-
perty, should arise from the chemical union of materials that
were not acid prior to such union. And 1 may with all con-
fidence add, that we have as much evidence, and the bsm\e
kind of reason.for saying, that the nervous system is sensible,
as we have for saying that vinegar is sour.

It is astonishing that any man acquainted with chemistry,
should be so inconsiderate or so hiiidy, as to assert, that it is
impossibie for sensibility to arise from any union of insensible
atoms* The truth is, false notions got abroad thousands of
years ago, and gave rise to language which has continued ev-
er since, and which can but serve to perpetuate such notions.
The expression, ^^ sensibility vf the nervous system,^- carries
with it the idea of something r/iore than — of something distinct
from — the nervous system ; and it is exceedingly difficult to
admit that something more can arise from any union of mate-
rial elements.

As we are now upon the subject of oi^anic union, wc may
renark, that it is less permanent than ciihei mechanical or
chemical ouioo. Substances mechanically or chemically uni-
ted, may remain a great length of time without undergoing
any change. Putty is formed by the mechanical union of oil
and ao earthy substance ; blue vitriol is a chemical union of sul-
phuric acid with copper: — both these substances may be pre*
served from change an indefinite period. But in organized
bodies, it is generaHy believed that internal changes are con-

54

tinually taking place, — particles of matter being united with,
and constituting a part of the body at one time, and at anoth-
er, taken up and carried out of the body : so that a certain
man of today, will not be precisely the same man to-morrow,
as it respects the particles of matter of which he is composed.

The addition of atoms which enter into the constitution of
organized bodies, is called rmiriflon^ their removal is effect-
ed by a process called absorption. When the nutrition ex-
ceeds the absorption, the body is said to giow ; when the ab-
sorption exceeds the nutrition, it is said to pine.

Furthermore, — the peculiar properties of oi^anized bodies
or beings, depend on such nice proportions and arrangements
of material elements, — some of which are invisible — that
these properties may be annulled by changes in such bodies ;
which changes cannot be detected by the senses. Thus the
nervoufe system shall be no longer in such a condition that
conscient actions can be excited in it by impressions upon the
senses, i. e. it shall become insensible ; and yet it shall appear
like a nervous system that is in a condition to act. The nice
organization of a muscle, on which its contractility depends,
may no longer exist, yet it shall look very much like a muscle
in a condition .to act, and shall still be called an organized bo-
dy ; but there is none of that organization there, which I
speak of, for the most part, in this work.

I have said that the nervous system may cease to think and
feel, and yet appear like a nervous system that is in a con-
dition to act. In this point, I may be disputed by the medi-
cal faculty, and I doubt myself whethet this ever can be, or at
least ever has been ; — we do not very often see the nervous
system when it is in a condition to act ; if we did, we might
perhaps find that it looks as much different when it is dead,
as the countenance does.

There is this inContiovertible.fact : Ko man ever dies with-

55

out prt-Diously suffering an important change in some one or
more of his organs.

A man does not die because his " souP' flies away from
him ! The truth is, a man is alive, as we express it, when his
organs are in a condition to act, and when they are not, .he is
dead. This is all. A man never dies until his oi^ans suffer
a change ; if he did, it would be some little shadow of evi-
dence ofthe existence ofsouls. if to die, is to have a soul fly
off from the body, it is passing ^strange that in millions of in-
stances it never once. flics off when the body is in health.

Again : Organized bodies having suffered such a change
that their physiological properties no longer exist,-^they,
sooner or later, according to their composition and their situ*
ation as to heat and moisture, undergo other changes which
are more obvious^ but not so important^ as the first changes*
These more obvious changes, which take place in bodies that
have by previous changes lost their physiological properties,
are chemical changes.

That. vegetables and animals, after suffering such a change
in their organization that their physiological properties no
longer exist, soon undergo chemical changes, is a fact which
some have brought forward as evidence of the existence of a
///>, -vital sparky or vital principle, — meaning by this life, not a
condition of a body, but a real independent being. Their
talk is something as follows : — So long as the life of an animal
remains in the animal, it controls the lazes ! of chemical action ;
but when this vital spark flies away from the organized body,
then the laws of chemical action which have heretofore been
controlled by it, exercise their wonted authority ; and chemi-
cal changes commence. Now all. this talk appears to me like
80 much nonsense — it is worse than absurd, for it is calcula-
ted to make some men think erroneously. — The truth is sim-
ply this : an organized body is a combination of material ele-

5ft

ments, comY)ined and amnged in a peculiar manner, and ia
nice proportions* So long as it is duly supplied with food,
T^armth, air, &c. it may continue to be an organized being —
to be what is called a living and healthy body* But if, from
any cause whatever, even its own wear and tear, this healthy
condition be in some degree changed, the properties and ac-
tions of the organized body are impaired ; if changed in a still
greater degree, these properties and actions are not only ex-;
tinct, but the body suiTerb further changes which it would
not, had it not suffered previous changes.

Why certain proportions of certain material elements uni-
ted in a peculiar manner, should not undergo such chemical
changes as they would were one or more of these materials
absent, or present in some other proportion ; or as they would
if some other material should be added to them, — I can as
well tell, and no better, as I can why a little salt added to
fresh meat should prevent the meat from sufiering such chem-
ical changes that it otherwise would.

I may remark, that chemical changes do go on in organiz*
ed beings very frequently, before such beings are said to be
dead. Now if there be a ^' vital spark'' in animals which
*^ controls the laws of chemical action,'' (what an ambiguous
expression!) why do these chemical changes ever take place
before this mighty power quits the bodj ? The simple fact is :
this vital spark is nothing more m t less than orgatiization, and
is of coarse something essentially different from what is to be
found in the kingdom of inoiiganic matter. — It would be ab-
surd to speAk of organic union, and then say it is nothing es-
sentially different from chemical or mechanical union.

It may be well to observe in this place, that the immaterial
philosophers do not mean the same thing by the word life,
that they do by the word soul. By the terms soul, mind,
perceptive principle, or immortal spirit, they mean an imma-

57

terial fhing which is superadded to the organized body, and
which thinks, feels and moves the body while it is alive, flies
ayaj when the body dies, amfscmses and thinks, one or both,
independent of the body. Whereas, by the terms life, vital
spark, vital principle, generative principle, or '' unknown
power,^^ (as Magendic calls it,) they do not mean any thinking
thing ; but an immaterial thing, but for which oi^anized bo-
dies would not be generated — would not grow — would not be
kept in decent order as a tenement for the souL

According to these philosophers, a vegetable has a life, and
an animal a life and a souK^ It is to be remembered, they
hold that the life and the soul are two real entities — two
agents which may act, may do something ; and which are es-
sentially different from any material agent, being even unex-
tended.

Now whoever believes in the existence of souls, is an m-
maUriaiisij whether he believe in the existence of lives or
not } and whoever bp.lieve& in thp t^ ri^ig^nr*^ nf Ijvpg, la a vital*
istj whether he believe in the existence of souls or not.

It may be worth our time to inquire why the belief in the
existence of souls and lives, was ever so very general as It
formerly has been ; and even as it is at the present time
among those who are but little acquainted with the anatomy
and physiology of vegetables and animals.

We have shown, that as chemical combination is a peculiar
mode of union which gives rise to properties that do not re*
suit from any other mode of union, so is organization a pecu-
liar mode of union which gives rise to properties peculiar to
itself. Owing to these properties, organized bodies exhibit
phenomena which inorganic bodies do not. Men witness
these phenomena, and are led to think that they must be re-
ferred to something which is not to be found in inorganic

matter, as in truth they must. And in ancient times, when

8

58

men bad t mean opinion of matter, chemistry not having
taught them that by its union, all the peculiar properties of
compound bodies arise, ^thts fiom^tbtng was supposed to be
some immaterial or spiritual agent, which enters oi^anized
bodies, and dodges out a^in ; leafing them an inert and lift"
/e55 mass of matter, destitute of all vital properties*

This notion, we may easily suppose, would be very gene*
ral ; for it was not the result of an abstruse speculation of one
man, but it arose from witnessing phenomena which were
present to all men. It was an opinion which the hook of na-
ture — an universi^l book — seemed to declare. This notion
having become general, gave rise to language which has ever
since served to strengthen and perpetuate it. And when we
consider that men are too cowardly or too lazy to search into
the truth of what every body believes — what nature at first
aight seems to declare; — what they have been taught from
their childhood, by parent, priest and primer — what the
language of all nations seems to confirm : — when we consider
also, that the phenomena which first gave rise to the notion,
are still every where present, and are even brought forward
as proofs of its correctness — ^it is not very marvellous that this
strange notion, not less groundless than those formerly enter*
tainedMr witches, should be as prevalent as it ever has been.

Nevertheless, an opinion is nothing the truer for being gen-
eral or ancient. The time was when all men thought falsely,
so far as they thought at all, concerning the movements of the
heavenly bodies ; — they took things to be as they appear to
be. And it is one principal object of this work to show that
all men who did not believe that man is constituted entirely oi
matter, do not believe things to be as they actually are in na*
turet

59

CHAPTER VIl.

On Vegetables*

^Vegetables are insensible oi^nized bodies : — they are ia*
sensible, because they have no nervous system*

Their origin is not fortuitous ; but they arise from seedsi
roots or slips which are bodies organized by a parent stock*
By virtue of this organization, they possess certain physiology
ical properties, so that when heat and moisture are presenti
they begin to germinate, and if surrounded by such food as
they have an affinity for, they take it up, and by internal ac«
ttons which can never be known to man except by their ef-
fects^ this food becomes assimilated to the 6mbrio plant, which
being thus enlarged, its plumule shootr up from the surface
of the soil, giving rise to the trunk and branches ; while the
rostel shoots deeper into the soil, giving rise to what we call
the roots.

Stones are said to grow ; but stones, and all other inorga-
nic bodies which may be said to grow, grow by juxta -position
of particles ; that isj the particles adhere to the outside ;—
they do not enter into or pass by any part of the body to
which they are about to be added* But with oiganized bo*
dies it is not so. We presume that in all instances in which
a particle of matter is united with an organized body, such
particle fint passes by some other particles which are akeadj
united with the body, constituting a part of it.

In what way the vessels of plants circulate their juices, it
is not fully determined. The supposition, however, that
these circulating vessels are contractile, best enables us to
account for all the phenomena connected with the circula*

60

tion oftbeir fluids. Still, so far as 1 know, the opinion that
the sides of the vessels attract the fluids, that extremity of the
Tessel towards which the fluid flows, attracting with the great-
est force, is far from being proved erroneous. Perhaps the
fluids are circulated partlj by attraction and partly by con-
traction. For my own part, I have no very positive opinion
about the matter, except I confidently believe that the phe-
nomena of vegetables, as well as of animals, are the efiects of
material causes — that there are no agents or operative beings
in either but what are material. And I would furthermore
maintain, that when I ascribe the peculiar properties of veg-
etables to organization, I give just as much an explanation of
them, as he does who says they depend on a life or a vital
principle. And there is this in my favor : we know there ia
such a thing as organization — ^such a thing as material ele-
ments united organically ; but we have not the least evidence
of the existence of a life. The hypothesis of life, also, gives
rise to many difficulties — many unanswerable questions that
cannot be asked, upon the supposition that vegetables are
constituted entirely of matter : as we will now proceed to-
show.

The life of a vegetable being an entity distinct from the
matter of a vegetable, from whence comes it, and where, and
only where, does it reside ? Does the life of each little shrub
and plant come directly from the hand of God ? And if so,
did he create a hfe for every particular plant which ever has
or ever will exist, at the time he " created all things ?" or is
he continually emanating fire-new lives for vegetables as they
spring up ! Does the life of a vegetable ever exist any where
but in the vegetable ? He that says it does, ought to be able
to show some reason for his saying so. If it do not, what be-
comes of the life of a vegetable which dies — ^a vegetable from

61

which the *" vital spark" flies away ?* Docs it straightway
dodge offinto some other v^etable ? When a maD clears five
acres of his wood-lot, do the trees on the remaining five acres
take a start all at once, and grow fasteri or discover any oth*
er signs of having received a new life.

To say that you destroy the life of a vegetable when you
destroy its organization, would be saying what a cautious vi-
talist will not readily admit ; for this would argue that the life
of a vegetable depends on its organization, instead of its or-
ganization being caused, modified, and maintained by its life ;
which would be taking away the supposed evidences of its
existence.

Nevertheless, this is the most rational method the vitalists
can suggest for getting rid of their lives of organized beings
when they die ; therefore we will grant it — we will grant,
whatever destroys the organization of a vegetable or an ani*
mal, destroys its life : — ^and then say : —

As there are no lives flying off from plants or animals when
they die, and as it is very difficult to admit that the God of
thousands of worlds is continually making new lives for the
numberless plants and animals that arc continually springing
forth ; and furthermore, as the lives of trees and men exist
only in trees and men, (taking this last for granted, until there
be some evidence to the contrary,) the question arises : from
whence come the lives of new or young plants and animals,
but from the seeds from which they spring ^ But it will not
answer to admit that a vegetable derives its life from the seed
from which it springs ; for according to this supposition, we
are driven to one of two pitiful alternatives : we must either
admit that an apple seed, six thousand years ago, contained as

* Whatever I may say relative to the life of vegetables, will ap-
ply with equal force against the life of animals, man not excepted.

62

much Kfe, or as many lives, as all the apple trees and apple
seeds that have ever originated, either directljr or indirectly,
from this seed ; or else we must admit, that when any seed
begins to grow, new life begins to be generated. But it would
be a fatal thing to vitalism to admit that life or lives are gen-
erated by the propagation or growth of vegetables or animals ;
for this would be making life to depend on oiiganization, in-
stead of organization on life.

Finally, to give the vitalists every possible chance to sup-
port their doctrine, let us make one more supposition, and
the most rational of all that can be suggested. Let us sup*
pose that at the time the Deity ^' created a// things,^' be crea-
ted one universal vegetable life, which pervades the air and
the soil, from which vegetables draw their support, — not a
distinct life for every species of vegetables ; for since there
are thousands of species, this would be multiplying the ma*
chinery by which nature works her ends, to an unwarrantable
degree*

The vitalists, then, cannot do better than to say, that one
universal principle was created for organized beings, or else
one for vegetables and one for animals.

I would now ask, bow one and the same vital principle
shall cause one seed to become an oak and another a thistle ?
Oh, say the vitalists, this is owing to the nature of the seeds
themselves. — Very good. But what do you mean by nature
of seeds ? The vital principle is out of the question — there is
but one —it must of course be the same in all seeds : I repeat
the question, — What do you mean by nature of seeds ? Do
you not mean their make or constitution ? Do you not mean
their organization ? I think this question must be answered
in the affirmative. If so, it follows of course that it is difier-
ence of organization that gives rise to all the differences be-
tween vegetables. This being made out^ I care for nothing

63

more ; 'but those who choose to fire awaj then* powder and
shot in defence ofanr insignificant, brain-begotten vital princi-
ple, which is not capable of efiecting any difference between
organized beings, still have the liberty to do so. But I shall
say that the word life, like the word soul, is a name without a
thing.

•00-

CHAPTER VIII.

General Remarks concerning Animals.

An animal is a sensible, organized body.t

This I consider a correct definition of an animal, and I shall
adhere to it. But there are some instances in which it is dif-
ficult to determine whether a being be sensible or not, and of
course to determine whether it be an animal or not. The
reasons of this difiiculty I will here attempt to show.

All the higher orders of animals, and perhaps all beings

f Being convinced of the importance of a correct nomenclature
in the science of physiology, (which, in its broadest sense, includes
all I understand by metaphysics,) I regret that the word sensible,
as well as the word sensibility, has been used in difi*erent senses. It
has been used in the technical or physiological sense, as 1 have
here used it^deooting a conscient being, or a being in which sensa*
lions may be excited by impressions upon its organs ; it has also
been used in a popular sense, as when it is said of one who can dis-
cern nice relations, and think of all that relates to a subject, he is a
iensi/fle man. And when we say of a person on whom impres-
sions produce more thnn an ordinary effect — a person whose finer
feelings or social passions are easily excited, he is a person of great
sensibility : we do not use the word in its strictest physiological
sense.

The reader will find that in this work the words sensible and
sensibility will seldom, if ever, be Msed in any other than their
technical significations.

G4

that are truly animals, possess a nervoas system consisting of
two parts, which, though nnaterially connected, subserve two
distinct purposes. The one part performs the functions of
sensing and thinking ; it is also instrumental in the production
of vo/untoi^ motions ; but the other part has no direct share
in the production of the conscient phenomena, being wholly
subservient in the production of involuntary actions, as the
actions of the circulating vessels and the alimentary canal.

These actions are vital actions, or in other words, they are
actions of contractile organs ; but they do not necessarily
suppose the existence offeeling or volition ; that is, they may
be, and indeed are performed without either. To distinguish
these two parts of the nervous system from each other, the
former has been termed the nervous system of animal life ;
the latter, the nervous system of organic life. It is not to be
supposed, however, that these two systeuis are distinct from
each other in any other respect than that of the offices which
they fulfil. On the contrary, there are many nerves passing
from the one to the other, and so incorporating them that those
organs which receive their nerves from the oi^anic system,
undoubtedly receive along with them a few fibres from the
animal ov feeling system ; and on this account these oi^ans
may be the seat of pain, when in a morbid state. Bu^ these
few fibres from the animal system of ner\'es, do not appear to
be necessary to enable these organs to perform their ordinary
functions ; for the actions of these organs are not directly nor
generally controlled by the thoughts or sensations going on in
the nervous system of animal life ; nor are their actions ordi-
narily accompanied with any sensation. It appears that this
connection between the two systems of nerves is designed, not
for ordinary, but for extraordinary purposes. By virtue of it,
inflammations and other diseases of the heart, stomach, bow-
els, liver, &c. cannot go on to a final termination without pro-

«5

daciogpain ; bence, bj warning the individual of his danger,
it may often be removed. By it, also, a roan's passions may
be expressed in his countenance, in a way which we shall at-
tempt to point out in the course of this work.

Now as there is, in the higher orders of animals, such a
thing as a nervous structure ; such a thing as contraction ;
and such a thing as important and obvious vital actions zotlA-
oui any sensation, thinking, or volitioil ; so there may be be-
ings of an inferior order which possess no nervous system of
animal life, and pf course are never the subjects of any con-
sciousness ; but which may nevertheless possess a nervous
texture, an organic nervous system, and a power of acting-*-
their actions being caused and controlled, not by thoughts,
not by conscient actions of a brain — but by material stimuli,
as are the actions of one's heart. Hence we may see organ-
ized automatons, possessing something that appears like a
nervous texture, and yet not be sure that it is a sensible be-
ing — not be sure that it is an animal.

Here then lies one great difficulty in determining, in some
cases, whether an organized being be an animal or not. Ano-
ther difficulty arises from the fact that an impression which
may excite a feeling, and a visible, and perhaps voluntary
motion in one organized being, may excite in another organ-
ized being a visible motton without exciting any feeling : —
we cannot see that action which constitutes a feeling ; and if
you toQch a polypus, and the polypus contract, you do not
know whether the impression which you make, acts directly
as a stimulus on the contractile fibre, or whether it gives rise
to the contraction through the medium of a zot7/, as immate-
rialists would express it. The existence of the contractile
texture in any being is no proof of the existence of a sensible
texture in the same being.

If there be any organized automatous beings, which pos*

66

seas any^part supposed to answer the purpose of a nervous
fiystem of organized life, but which are never the subjects of
any consciousness, I would neither call them vegetables nor
auimalSf but zoophiles^

We desire to avoid any difficulties that might arise from
not strictly adhering to our own definitions of terms. It mat-
ters not with us what materials a being is organized out of;
what its mode of existence may be ; or in what way it may
propagate its species : if it do not possess the physiological
propert}, sensibility^ we say it is not an animal.

Some writers have laid down sensibility and locomotive
power as the peculiar characteristics of an animal ; but pre-
sentlj they find that some beings arc able to move, in which
no traces of a nervous system can be found, and which dis-
cover no signs of feeling ; others they find, which they call
plants, but which discover signs of sensibibiltty. They are
DOW very much put to their stumps, to draw a line of distinc-
tion between animals and vegetables. But if these men
wojid only adhere eiren to their own definition of animal, they
would find less difficulty than they do. Instead of this, they
define an animal in one place, and perhaps in the next line
tell you that this definition will not hold good, because some
other thing quite difierent ts also an animal. I will here in-
sert a passage to the point, from Good^a Book of Nature.

*' Yet if we hence lay down consciousness or sensation and
locomotion as the two characteristics of animal life, we shall
soon find our definition untenable, for while the Linnean class
of worms affords insfarces, in perhaps every one of its orders,
Qf animals destitute of locomotion, and evincing no mark of
consciousness or sensation, there are various species o( plants
that are strictly locomotive, and that discover a much nearer
approach to a sensitive faculty.''

In this sentence Dn Good has done as much as to say, — if

67

we call a sensible, self-moving being, an animal^ we sball find
our definition untenable; for there are many animals which
have no locomotive power, and evince no mark of sensibility,
as well as same plants which are locomotive and discover
signs of sensibility. Now this is much the same as if I should
define water, by saying it is a tasteless ai*d colourless fluid,
and then say this definition is untenable, for a sour and reddish
fluid [vinegar] is water. Surely, if we define an amma/ a
sensible, self-moving being, then no being is an animal which
is not sensible aud automatous, let it be called a worm, a
watch, or what you please.

As to the stuff that animals are made of, it xrmj be stated
that there is nothiag to be found in them but what is to be
found out of them* We find that they are oi^anized '^ out of
the ground,'' or '^ the dust of tlie ground,'' as stated io Gene-
*Bi8, chap* 2, V. 7, 1 3.

Animal substances are analyzed, at tbe present day, in such
a manner that it seems impossible for any thing to be lost, and
we find that those animals which are not of the lowest orders,
are constituted of the following elementary substances : phos*
phorus, sulphur, carbon, iron, magnesium, calcium, sodium,
manganese, potasium, silicium, alumium, chlorine, oxygen,
hydrogen, axote, caloric, light and electricity. ^

There ib nothing to be found in man that is not to be found
in other animals.

m

It has been a question with physiologists whether the blood,
while circulating in a livinganimal, is a living substance or
not ; but this is the same as to in({uire whether it be oi^nized
or not For my own part, 1 believe tbe materials of tbe
blood are united organically.

The process by which organized beings give rise to organ-
ized bodies, has been considered as very mysterious. But
when and why is there any propriety in saying aujr thing ii

68

«

lllysterioup ? If wc do not say it is mysterious that one body
ID motion puts another in motion by striking against it, then
there is no propriety in our saying it is mysterious that any
one event follows another, in case the event immediately fr
low ; and if we expunge from the catalogue of mysteries, '
Cases in which one event immediately follows another, the
will be no cases in which there is any propriety in talking of
mystery, but those in which we suppose there are intervening
events between' two obvious events ; which intervening events
we cannot discover to our satisfaction. Whether, in the pro-
cess of generation, there be any more events which we arc
unacquainted with, than there are in the processes of nutri*

#

tion, volition, or absorption, no man can say. But if there
be, they are events brought about by virtue of organization ;
and instead of racking our brains in conjecturing what they
are. we say that the first male and female of each species of
animals were organized by the Deity in such a manner as to
be able to propagate their species ; and if they were able to
propagate their species, they were able to give n'se to other
animals like themselves, which, of course, were able to pro*
pagate their species in their turn, and so on, one generation
giving rise to another, to the present time.

We ought not to look upon a germ or embryo as any thing
distinct from the parent body with which it is intimately uni-
ted, but as a part of such parent body. To be sure, it is in
time to be separated from the body of which it is a part, by a
natutal process instead of an artificial one ; but it is none the

*

less a part of the parent body, so long as united with it on this
account, than the hair on one^s head, or one^s own heart. A
part (an ovum) of the female becomes developed, or in other
words, grows so as to become a foetus, because all the parts
concerned are excited into action by a peculiar kind of stim-
ulus I but this is no more wonderful than that any other part

G9

should grow when duly furnished with nutritive matter. And
I may add — he iiho says generation is effected by the influence
or operations of»a " nisusformaiivus which vivifies and shapes
the • .^erto shapeless spermatic matter," as Blumcnbach has
' '^So more explains to us the process, than another one
doe mho says the whole process is accomplished by material
organs, which, by virtue of their organization, have the pow-
er of accomplishing it.*

As to the natural or original superiority of man over other
animals, we may state in a few words in what it consists : it
consists in having hands and a htiitr brain. — All the conscient
phenomena may be divided into two classes, sensing and think-
ing. To sense, is to have a sensation, that is, to have a con*
scient action of a nerve and the brain ; to think, is to have a
conscient action of the brain alone. Judging or reasoning,
remembering and imagining, are but modes of thinking : in*
deed we can scarcely call them different mcydes, for as it re-
spects what goes on in the head, there is no essential differ-
ence between remembering, 'judging, imagining, and simply
tt^mkfirg. When a man is said to remember, imagine, &c.
nothing other occurs in the brain than one thought [one con*
scient action of the brain] after another ; but because these
thoughts may occur in difierent orders, because they may re**
late to different subjects, and because of other things which I
cannot here mention to advantage, — the terms remembering,

* It may be remarked, that, by virtue of orgdnizationy means
as macb, and do more, as, by virlue of those properties or powers
wkick arise from organization*

What, for instance, can be the difference between saying the ner^
vous syitem/eels by virtue of ita organizationy or the nervous sys*
tern is «o ovfranized as to be able to fetL or^ sensibility arises Jrom
the organic union of mailer as it occurs in the nervous system,
andonaeeouni of its sensibility y the nervous system may/eel?'^
Sound excepted, there is no difference.

70

judging, imagining, &c. have got into use* Nevertheless, we
are not to suppose that any more than one single thought oc-
curs in a man^s bead at the same identical instant ; and as to
double, or compound, or complex thoughts or ideas, there are
no such tbingR. Now all modes of thinking, if such they may
be called, evidently go on in all animals, from a man down to
a mouse, and even several grades lower. But they do not go
on in the same degree of efficiency^ if I may use the best poor
term I can think of, in the lower orders of animals, that thej
do in man—owing to their not having the knowledge^ i. e*
the sensorial tendencies of a man,

I know it is very fashionable with the unfeathered bipeds
to extol human reason as a divine endowment, peculiar to
their own species ; but so far from their eve|^knowing what
it is, I very much doubt if two out of a thousand would define
it precisely alike. I am sure I should give the word reasoa
a definition altogether different from the sense in inrhicb it ap-
pears to be generally used.

We have not enumerated the faculty of communicating
ideas by signs, that is, by articulate sounds and marks on pa*
per, as a natural endowment of man which gives him superi-
ority over other animals ; for as the vocal divans of other an-
imals, and of the deaf and dumb of the human species, appear
to be as perfect as those of any men, we have good reason to
suppose that if a man had the brain of a horse in his skull, he
could no more articulate than a horse ; and if he could not,
and had also the anterior hoofed extremities of a horse instead
of arms and hands — why, then, if a// men had always been so
formed, we should have had no more language than horses
have. Hence we see that the natural superiority of man does
not, even in part, consist in the acquired faculty of communi-
cating ideas*

I know that some have advanced the very irrational notioui

71

that man first received his language directly from heaven i
but its origin can be very satisfactorily accounted for, without
such a supposition as this. The band is what has enaUed
men to bring their language to the present state of perfection.

Among our remarks relative to animals in general^^e may
state, that the intellectual or conscient functions of the brain,
are performed in a manner more or less perfect, according to
its natural make and condition. We say, according to its con*
dicion, for the brain of the same individual is not at all times
in the same condition or state. It is not in such a state in
infiincy and old age as in middle life ; and like all other parts
ef the body, it is liable to be diseased.

As to original make, the brains of individuals who belong
to the same species, widely differ. Some men, for instance,
have a good large plump brain, as indicated by a high fore-
head, standing well forward, the temples being full and distant*
A person with such a head, you might take for a natural ge**
nius Without much' risk of mistake, if you only knew that the
internal organization of his brain is good, and is not envel-
oped by uncommonly thk^ skull and membranes ; but as
some brains are, as we may say, phlegmatic, and not very ac-
tive — not easily 'and readily acquiring strong sensorial tendew-
cies by exercise ; and as others may be enveloped in uncom-
monly thick skull and membranes, a large head, even on a
small body, is no( a sure indication of natural superiority as
to thinking abilities. So on the other hand, a man's head*
may be rather narrow, from temple to temple — his forehead
may be low, and soon receding back, and his eyes, instead of
being sank, as it were, into his head, may be nearly as nigh
to you as the superciliary ridges of his osfronUs which arch
over them ; still such a headed man may ^^ knaw something;^'
but as a general rule, you may conclude there.is no great share
of original susceptibility in such a looking head.

72

As to the condition of the brain, it Is never altered from a
state of health without a corresponding alteration in it& abili-
ty to think. In infancy it is softer, and in old age it is more
dry and rigid than in middle age \ and at these two periods it
performs its functions as imperfectly or feebly as do the oth-
er organs of the system at these periods* Diseases, injuries,
and spirituous liquors, disenable it for performing its intellec-
tual functions at all, or cause it to act very feebly and irregu*
larly — as we see in cases of asphyxia, apoplexy, hydrocepha-
lus, ebriety, compressed brain from depression of a part of the
skull, &c. The brain (and consequently is functions,) is
also under the influence of sex and climate, as are the other
organs of the system. Finally, we may lay down the po-
sition (which, if disputed, can never be refuted,) that we have
just the same kind of evidence that sensing and thinking are
functions of the nervous system, as we have that the secretion
of bile is a function of the liver, or the secretion of urine a
function of the kidnies. And there would be just as much
sense and propriety in my saying the bile is secref ed by a bil-
iary agent distinct from the liver, as there is in immaterialists
saying that thinking is performed by a soul, mind, or thinking
agent distinct from the brain. Nor do immaterialists better
the matter by acknowledgit)g, as some of them have, that it is
as much a function of the brain to think, as it is of the liver to
secrete bile, provided they add — the brain is enabled to per-
form this function by the superadditionofa ^^ percipient prin-
ciple." — A distinct agent is a distinct agent, call it by what
name you please, whether mind, soul, percipient principle,
or something else. If immaterialists say that the bmio is en-
abled to think by means of a percipient principle superadded,
I will say the liver is enabled to secrete bile by means of a
hUt'secreting principU superadded, and then ask them how
this sounds*

73

As I desie;!) to cftablish the principles of materialism, by
giving a satisfactory explanation of the conscient phenomena
of man in health and disease, upon thesfte principles — I shall
not attempt to point out the differences in the size, -shape and
complication of the nervous organs in different species of an-
imals, showing, as others have already done, that these differ*
cnces are exact criteria of the differences in their thinking
abihties. I will here remark, however, that as the thinking
abilities of man are superior to those of any other species of
animals, so is his brain larger, in proportion to the amouui of
Derv(\us elongations that proceed from it, than Ibe brain of any
other species of animal.

-00-

CHAPTER IX.

On the Nervous System*

The nervous system consists of several parts between which
there are obvious marks of distinction : but we consider (heoi
as parts of one system, because they are not entirely separa-
ted by the intervention of any thing that is not of the nervous
texture. Different parts of the nervous system perform dif-
ferent functions ; hence the reader will not be surprised to
hear us speak of the organs of the nervous system* indeed,
custom justifies us in speaking of two nervou«( systems in the
same animal — a nervous system of animal life, and a nervous
system of oiganic life, as an ingenibus French physiologist has
called them.

The Nervous System of Animal Life consists of the brain
which filU the skull; the spinal marrow — or more properly,
spinal cord — which extends from the brain through the whole

10

T4

length of the vertebral column ; and all the nerves which pro*
ceed from the brain and spinal cord. These nerves are dis-
tributed more or less plentifully to every part of the bodj in
which a s«ii«ation may be excited.

The brain is a pulpy body of very irregular figure, having
a number of projections and depressions, corresponding part-
ly with the iriegularities of the skull, and partly produced by
convolutions and cavities in the brain itself. Scarcely any
thing is known with respect to the use of these projections
and depressions ; therefore we shall not give a particular de-
icription of them; nor shall we describe the membranes
which envelop the brain and dip into its fissures — some of
them entering and lining what are called the cavities of the
brain. But it is necessary to remark, that what I have here
called the brain, is generally described as consisting of four
principal divisions, called cerebrum^ ctrtbtllum^ pom Varoiiij
and medulla oblongnta.

The cerebrum completely fills <he upper part of the cavity
of the cranium or skull, being several times la i^er than the
other three parts collectively. It is divided into two equal
parts, called hemispheres^ which are separated vertically by
the /a/a;, a membrane which dips down from the skull. This
vertical separation does not extend through the whole depth
of the^ cerebrum in its central part, but it divides it complete-
ly before and behind. The under surface of each hemisphere
is divided into three lohes^ an anterior, middle, and posterior.
The cerebrum, and the cerebellum also, consists of two sub*
atances of difTerent colours and consistence ; one of which is
for the most part exterior to the other. The exterior sub-
•tance is of a light brown colour, very vascular, more soft
than the inner, and has a glandular appearance when exam-
med by the microscope : it is called the dneriiious or cortical
substance* The lower and central portion ^of the cerebrum

75

U white, and in man is larger in proportion to the cortical
•ubstance, than in other animals. In' the foetus it is less abun*
dant in proportion to the cortical substance, than in the adult*
It is called the medullary substance.

I mention these difier^tnt substances of the brain, because
as, in the same species of animals, like structures have like
appearances, and perform like functions, it may be inferred
from this fact alone that the cortical and medullary portions
of the brain perform difierent functions ; — and we have good
reason to suppose that the cortical secretes a subtile fluid,
but is not sensible, while conscicnt actions take place in the
medullary portion. Take an animal and slice off portions of
the cortical part of its brain, and .it will exhibit no signs of
pain, nor will you destroy its ability to think and move ; but
when you get pretty well down into the medullary part, yoa
produce pain and contractions of the voluntary muscles, and
filially destroy the animaPs ability to think nnrf move, that is,
kill it.

Below the cerebrum and cerebellum, we find the ;9on^ no*
rolii, which is formed by processes from the cerebrum and
cerebellum. From this part the medulla oblongata proceeds
downwards and backwards under the cerebellum. The me*
dulla oblongata soon reaches a large hole an inch or two pos-
terior to (he centre of the base of the skull, called the fora*
men magnum of the occipital bone. As soon as the medulla
oblongata passes this foramen, it enters .the spinal canal, and
takes the name of spinal cord, or spinal marrow.*

* *' The most striking chiiracter of thi> human brain is the prodigl-
oos developement of th«* cerebral hemispheres, to which no animal^
whatever ratio its whole encephalon [the whole cooteots of its
cranium] may bear to its body, affords any parallel.

*^ It is also the most perfect in the number and developement of
its parts ; none being found in any aainial which man has not |
while several of those found in man are either reduced in siae, or

76

From the lower part of the brain proceed nine pairs of
nervei", most of them Irom the medulla oblongata, some from
the cerebrum, but none from Ibe cerebellum. These nerves
are white cords, consisting mostly of medullary matter ; and
it IS impossible for the anatomist to trace them to one com-
mon centre or point in the brain; but there can be no doubt
but that they all have a connexion with that part of the brain
which we shall call the seDSorium, when wc get to the chap-
ter on tiensation. To enumerate these nerves in order, com-
mencing with the most anterior ; — The first pair are the o/-
facto ;y nmes / they proceed to the oi^an ofsmelling, and are
distributed to the membrane which lines the nasal cavities,
called the Schnciderian u>embrane« Tiiey are so organized
that odours, by coming in contact with this membrane, excite
such conscient actiod in them, and consequently in the brain,
as constitutes the sensation called smelling.

dcfirieni, in various animals. H^nce it has been said, that by ta.
kin? away or diminishing, or chaogini^: proportions, you might
ftirm, fiom the human bnin, (hnt of any animal \ while, ou the
cuiiti'riry. there is none I'rum which you could in like manner con*
yirii't the brain of a man.

" It appi caches ibe most nearly the spherical form. That the
nt rves are i\\e smallrst in man in proportion to the brain, has been
alr<-:idy pointed nnt ; the brain diminishes, and the nerves increase
ir !)• man downwards, in the scale oi' animals In the fetus and
child the neives are proportionally larger thiu in the adult. The
8"^-' nion that the human brain has the Inrgest cerebrum in propor-
tion to (he rerehf.thim, doe^ not seem correct. It has, however, the
lnrLr*'Si r rebrum in proportion to the medulla otdongata and spinal
Cord, with the single and indted singular eireption of the dolphin.

** In the animafs mentioned below, the weight of the cere bull um is
to ihat of the cerebrum as follows : —

Wan,

1—0

Mofe,

1—4 1-2

Cow, 1—9

Dotf,

1—8

Bttboon,

1—7

Wild Boar, 1—7

1" ^e,

1—7 Slieep,

1—6

Beaver, 1—3

Hare,

1-6

iMouse,

I— X

Rat, 1-3 1-2

Lawjijemc£'s Ltctures on Zoology^ ^e.

w

77

Behind the olfactory nerveis are the optic* These are the
nerves of virion* They pass through holes in the back part
of the sockets of the eyes, and flirough the thick strong coat
of the eye bail* Here they expand each intoa semi-transpa^
rent, pulpy membrane, called retina, Rays of light passing
through the anterior transparent coat, and through the hu-
mors of the e>e-ball, fall upon the retina and excite that con-
scient action in the optic nerves and brain which constitutes
seeing.

The optic nerves in passing from their origin to the eyes,
run toirards each other, and either cross each other so that
the one which arises from the right side of the brain, goes to
the left eye, and vice versa ; or else having united with each
other without any interchange of fibres, they again recede,
each nerve forming in its course to the eye an obtuse angle*
Anatomists arenoot agreed as to the nature of this union ; but
there are patholog;^cal facts which favor the opinion that they
cross each other. — In many instances in which the vision of
one eye has been destroyed by some disease or injury of the
brain, or of an optic nerve before its union with its fellow,
such disease or injury has been fouijd by dissection to be on
the side opposite the aifected eye.

The third pair of nerves are distributed to the muscles
which are attached to the eye-ball, and rolf it upwards aud
downwards, inwards and outwards.

The /out th pair of nerves are so small that they appear like
sewing thread. They are exclusively appropriated to a small
muscle ofthe eye.

The^^A pair of nerves are the largest nerves that arise
from the brain ; they have a very extensive distribution
about the scalp, face and mouth — agoing to muscles, mem-
branes, glands, skin, &c. It is important to mention that the
inimediate organ oi taste is a branch ol the tilth pair of nerves.

78

This branch, which is distributed to the tongue, is caUedlhe
lingual or gustatory nerve. An anatomist of Rome, Colum*
bus 1 think his name was, once had an opportunity to dissect
a man who never had any power of tasting — ^all foods and
drinks exciting no other sensation in his mouth tlian that of
feeling. The gustatory nerve was found wanting.

We here pee, in the case of the fifth pair of nerves, that
branches of one and the same nerve are the immediate organs
of two different kinds of sensations, tasting and feeling,
Hence we have reason to suppose, that it is diiTecence in the
organization of the organic extremities of nerves, fhat enables
one nerve to be excited by one class of agents, and another
only by agents altogether different.

The sixth pair of nerves are small, and pass to certain mus-
clos of the eye ; but before they reach the eye they send off a
small twig, which, being joined bj another small twig.from a
branch of the fifth pair, passes out of the skull through the ca-
nal which admits the carotid artery, and unites with the up-
per extremity of the upper cervical ganglion, which ganglion
is a nervous body belonging to the fierooiLs system of organic
Hfe.

We may consider the upper end of this ganglion as one ex-
trcmit} of the organic nervous system, and these twigs from
the fifth and sixih pairs constitute one of the several commu-
nications between the animal and organic systems.

The seventh pair of nerves comprises two distinct cords on
each side, which have very different destinations ; and have,
therefore, been considered, by several anatonriists, as different
nerves. One of these nerves is appropriated to the interior
of the ear, and is the proper auditory nerve* The other is
principally spent upon the face, and has been called the/a-
cinl ; they are, however, more frequently called the seventh
pair J owing, 1 suppose, to their passing from the braiu nearly

79

in contact, and their making their exit from the cavity of the
cranium, through one foramen. But there is a great diifer-
ence in their texture ; hence one is called the portio duroy or
bard portion, apd the other poriio mollis^ or soft portion. It
is the portio mollis that is the essential organ of hearing. It
terminates in a pulpy expansion on the internal surface of cer-
tain sacs and canals, which constitute parts of what is called
the internal tar.

To give a particular description of the apparatus of hear-
ing, would be to enter into one of the most difficult parts of
anatomy. We might say a great deal, and then not be un«
derstood but by those already acquainted with this apparatus*
But it is necessary that we define the names of certain agents
and actions concerned in the production of bearing.

A sound is a vibratory motion impressed on the particles of
bodies by percussion, or any other cause. When the parti-
cles of any body have thus been put in action, they communi-
cate it to the elastic bodies which surround them ; these act
in the same manner, and thus the vil>ratory motion is comma*
nicated, oftentimes, to a great distance. Elastic bodies alone,
generally speaking, are capable of suffering that vibratory mo-
tion of their particles which constitutes sound. If these vi-
brations are not equal to thirty in a second, they will not give
rise to that action in the auditorv nerves arid brain which con-
stitutes hearing, or in other words, they do not constitute
sound, according to our dull organs. Some have used the
word sound, not only to denote the cause of hearing, but the
sensation itself; but this use of the word is improper, and has
given rise to disputes about such questions as this : when a
tree falls in the wilderness, is there any sound if there be no
aaimal within miles of the tree?

Now the use of the extenial ear, or what is commonly cal-
led iht tar^ is to collect the sonorous vibrations of the air, and

80

direct them into the mtatus audiiorius extemus^ which is a ca-
nal leading to the membrana tympanic which is a tense, thin,
circular membrane, stretched across the inner extremity of
the external meatus, forming a complete partition between
this canal and the tympanum^ which is a cavity that constitutes
what anatomists call the middle ear. Across this cavity is
extended a chain of very small bones, one end of which chain
is attached to the centre of the membrana tyropani, the other
end to the membrane which closes the /oramen ovale. Pass
this membrane, and you are in the vestibulum^ which is a cen-
tral cavity or point, where all the other cavities of the internal
ear communicate. These cavities are lined with a pulpy ex-
pansion of the auditory nerve, and are tilled with a limpid flu-
id, called the fluid of Cotunnus.

Now when vibrations of elastic bodies, such as the' air and
liquids, make impressions upon the membrana tympani, an ac-
tion is communicated to the chain of bones, as well as to the

»

air in the tympanum ; (forthe tympanum receives airthrough
a tube reaching from the back part of the mouth ;) this chain
of bones transfers the action to the membrane that closes the
foramen ovale, and this again to the fluid of Cotunnus, and this
to the auditory nerve, and this again to the brain; and thus is
that action excited which constitutes the sensation called
hearing.

The eighth pair of nerves is often called the par vagum, on
account of its very extensive distribution. This nerve sends
branches to the muscles which constitute, in part, the organs
of respiration and voice ; it also sends important branches to
the nervous system of organic life — branches #hich assist
nerves of this system in forming net-works or plexuses^ as they
are called ; which are nervous cords uniting with each other
in all directions, leaving little spaces or meshes between.
From the plexuses, which branches of the eight pair of nerves

imst in fenning; nei^^s proceed to theltingB, henrt, iind stom*
arh, Ofl (his accoant the powers of these organs to perform
iheir fiinctions nwy be impaired or even destroyed by tying
or dividing the eighth pair of nerves in the neck ; and il is
parity on this account, too, that these organs, particularly the
heart and stomach, may be influenced as they are by the pas»
tions.

When we say that the power of the heart, lungs and atom*
ach, may be destroyed by dividi^ng the eighth pair of nervea,
it most not be supposed that this division destroys these pow*
ere directly and immediately ; but it mitst be remembered^
that the powers of the heart, lungs, stomach, and also of th€
muscles of respiration, and even of the voice, have such de*
pendences on each other, that wi)en one power is impaired^
another suflers oti this account, and tlien another, and so on^
until you get cound to the first impaired organ, each imper*
fection mr^tnaHy increasing each.— Surely^ to divide ttie
eighth part of nerves can have no direct inffuence on the mus*
cles of the lower extremfties' ; yet if this division oceasioa
death, we must admit tliat it has a very great inflaence on
these muscles in the end« No important organ in the animal
system can be impaired, without having more or less influ-
ence, direct or indirect, on all the others. However, we do
suppose that the division of the eighth pair of nerves has a di-
rect influence on the heart, lungs, stomach, and many of the
muscles of respiration and voice; but yet, if the Ainctionaof
these organs were independent of each other, this influence it
not such as to destroy life, or even to deeiroy the functional
ornwire properly, the powers of one of theee organs*

The ninth pair of nerves is chiefly distributed to the miM»
cks about the neck and mouth.

Thirty pairs of nerves, proceeding from the spinal cord, and

of course belonging to the nervous system of animal life, are

11

iM>tyet noticed. To give a particular description of the seT*
eral piexases formed by these nerves; to point out the par-
ticular parts to which thej are distributed ; or even to name
all these nerves, is not necessary on the present occasion.

We must state, however, that they send several twigs to
the nervous system of organic life, and, putting aside those
parts which receive nerves directly from the brain, these spi-
nal nerves go to all p^risoahebody endowed with fteling or
Toluntary motion;* but they do not go directly nor plentifully
to all organs which possess any degree of sensibility or con*
tractile power, as we shall sec when we come to treat of the
nervous system of organic life.

Among the parts entirely destitute of sensibiltfy, we may
reckon the bones, cartilages, and tendons, to mention no oth-
er. These parts are destitute of nerves ; and it is on this ac-
count that no conscient action — no feeling — c^n be excited in
them ; you may pinch, pull, cut, or bum them, without pro-
ducing pain or any other sensation, if you do it without ma-
king any impression on the neighboiing parts which are sen-
sible. It has been said that when these parts are inflamed
they are painful ; but some, if not all, of the most learned mo-
dern physiologists, consider this opinion erroneous. The
truth is, (as they believe,) when these parts are diseased, they
irritate the nerves of the surrounding parts, and thus give rise
to the pain. Should any fact ever prove that these parts,
when inflamed, are the actual seats of sensations, then it would
prove that they receive nerves, either by way of the coats of
the nutritive vessels which enter them, or else nerves so very

* I trust the reader is already awaie of the imprecision of the
above expressioo in italics ; but such is our prestent language that I
must use it, to avoid much circumlctcution. A feeling and a volun-
tary motion are both actions ; and it is bad enough to be under the
necessity of saying a part is emdowtd with pofver ; but it b worse
atill^ to say of a part| it is endontd nilhan action*

86

*

small, and of colour flo like that of the parts themselves, as
not to be discovered by oar senses ; and we should be under
the necessity of admitting that inflnmrnation of these parts may
BO afiect their nerves^ that cooscient actions may be excited
ID them.

Some circomstances connected with the anatomy of the
brain yet remain to be noticed ; one is^ the great quantity of
blood transmitted to it by the arteries. Haller concluded
that one fifth of the blood of the whole system went to the
head, although the weight of the human brain is not more than
one-fortieth of that of the whole body ; but admitting the
brain to receive only one-tenth of the blood, this will be a ve-
ry great over- proportion. The great quantity of blood re-
ceived by the brain is one evidence that this organ performs
very important functions ; and as those organs which secrete
fluids, and which are called glandft| receive large proportions
of blood, we have additional reason for supposing that one
function of that complicated organ, the brain, is to secrete a
nervous ftuid — we believe, as we have said, that it is the cio^
entious part of the brain which secretes this fluid.

Another circumstance is, that the brain has no lymphatic
absorbent vessels, at least, no such vessels can be discovered,
even with the aid of a microscope *, and considering the size
of the brain, and the great quantity of blood which it receives,
we should expect iis absorbents, if it had any, would be pret-
ty large. But as this fact has some relation with the pheno-
mena of remembering, we shall advert to it in another place.

As to the chemical and physical properties of the nervous
matter, they are obviously peculiar to itself, unlike what we
meet with in any other of the constituents of the body ; but
wherever it is to be found, it exhilftits nearly the same proper*
ties. It is generally agreed that the medullary part of the
krain is fibrous, and that these fibres are placed in such a di'*

84

rection as to conveii^e towards th^base of the brain. It ap-
pears from the microscopical observations of several physiol-
ogists, that these fibres are chains of globules, connected to*
gether by a peculiar g'utinous substance.

A fibrous structure is discovered in the spinal cord, though
less distinct than in the brain. The fibrous structure of the
nerves of animal life is very obvious ; but the ultimate ner-
vous filament is not supposed to be a chain of globules, like
that of the brain, but a cyhndiical canal, containing a viscid
pulpy matter. With respect to the nerves o( organic life, and
the branches of the eighth pair from the head, (which branch-
es, after assisting in forming a plexus, go to involuntary mus-
cles without entering a ganglion,) the disposition o( their fibres
diilers from that of the other nerves. These fibres, instead
of being straight and parallel, are irregularly connected with
each other and twisted together.

As to tlie use of the nervous system of animal life, it is
not our inlbntioD to say much in this place. But it may be
well to just glance at some of the effects which arise from
certain experiments, diseases and injuries.

By dividing or compressing, as by a ligature, the nerves
going to any part or oiigan, you destroy the power of such or-
gan to sense. Tie the olfactory, optic, auditory and gustato-
ry nerves, and you disenable the animal to smell, see, bear,
and taste* Tie all the other nerves from the brain and spinal
cold, or instead of tying these last, tie the cord as soon as it
issues from the foramen magnum, and you destroy, as we may
say, the sensibility of every part of ttie body ; and not only
ao, but you coKV{)lelely disenable the animal to move* — If the
animal migtu still think, not a muscle could he contract ; of
course, not a member could he move, though he wM to
BK>ve them ever so greatly.

Were it possible for an iniant to be born and to grow to the

S6

m

size of ao adult, with a ligature^ or something to tit^e same ef.
feet, aroand every nervous elongation that proceeds from the
brain, such being would never be the subject of any sensation,
thought, or emotion — in a word, would never be the subject
of any more consciousness than a block of marble ; and, let
his muscles be ever so good, he would no more possess the
power of locomotion than any other body you can mention.

This is no speculation — it is plain matter of fact, as every
physiologist well knows ; — he is as certain of it as the astron-
omer is that the earth turns on its own axis.

If, by any means, the lower and central part of the brain be
compressed, all consciousness ceases \intil such pressure be
removed. If the spinal cord be compressed in its course, all
pirts leceiving nerves that issue from below this spot, can no
longer feel nor be moved by the will.

We have said that a great proportion of the upper part of
the bram may be removed wit Lout immediately affecting the
animaPs ability to think and move ; but it is not so with the
lower and medullary part. And the lower down you get, the
more mischief to these powers do you do; but yet it is pro-
per to mention that thi^ lower purt of (he brain will suffer ve-
ry gradual changes, in what may be called its mechanical or
physical organization, without affecting its functions so much
as the effects of sudden changes would lead us to expect.

ITie fact is, whatever operates suddenly on organized bo-
dies, affects their nice internal, physiological oi^anization
more, in proportion to the effects produced on its physical or
mechanical structure, than causes which operate gradually—*
giving the organ, as we may say, some chance to accommo*
date itself to the change. Now it is this nice, internal^ physio*
logical organization, that is the ver} life, soul^ and poaer of
organized bodies. — It matters little what shape oi condition

86

you may force an organized body into, provided yott dd^ot
injure its internal oi^anization.

The Nervous System of Organic Life consists of two chains
of ganglions situated within the body, one on each side of the
spinal column ; and of the infinite number of small nerves
i^hich proceed from these ganglions.

The ganglion? are little reddish or greyish bodies^ of a tex-
ture which has nothing in common with that of the cerebral
iubsiance, being rather spungy than pulpy* These bodies,
as well as the nerves which issue from them, possess but a ve-
ry low degree of sensibility. Bichat has shown that they may
be powerfully irritated in a living anin^al without the animal
exhibiting signs of sufieiing ; but if you irritate a nerve from
the brain or spinal cord, the animal instantly cries out and
Btru^les. I think it more than probable that what little de-
gree of sensibility the organic system possesses, is owing to
the many twigs which it receives from the animal aystenu

It must be remembered that the nerves of any organ are
what enable the organ to sense,* and although it is a common
way of speaking, to say of anch organ, it issensible^ aiaU it is
sensible inasmuch as it possesses sensible nerves ; and it is no
more sensible than the nerves which it possesses. Hence the
lungs, heart, stomach, liver, spleen, bowels, in short, all those
oi^ans which receive the principal part of their nerves from
the organic system, possess but a low degree of sensibility, es-
pecially in a healthy state* We do not feel the blood pour
into the heart ; we do not feel the contents of the bowels
moving downwards ; we do not feel any df the healthy actions

* Tojkelj is to have only one of the five kinds of sensations, but
to «ense, is to have any sensation : hence, in some cases, the latier
term is far preferable to the lornier.— We say there are bye species
of sensations.

87

of vnose organs contained in the two great cavities of the bo-
d V — the ihoraxj which is abore the diaphragm or midriff, and
the abdomen, which is below the diaphragm.

'fhe ganglions strung along on each side of the spine, from
tLe apperpart of the neck to the lower part of the pelvis, are
tinited with each other directly by a nervous cord that pro-
ceeds straight along, from one ganglion to another. Each
ganglion gives off several nerves, and these nerves, proceed-
ing from the ganglions on each side of the spine, form several
important plexuses ; and from these plexuses proceed nerves
to the thoracic and abdominal viscera. And although seve*
ral of the viscera, as the heart, stomach and bowels, are mus-
cular organs, they cannot be excited into action or stopped,
by any thinking going on in the bead, or, to use the more
convenient, but less correct language of the schools, these
muscular organs are not under the control of the will : hence
they are called involuntary muscles.

The ganglions, like the brain, are supplied with a large
proportion of blood, and 1 believe their office is, not to unite
nervous fluids coming from different quarters of the nervous
system of animal life — a thing which might as well be effect-
ed by a plexus — but to secrete a nervous fluid. Concerning
this matter we shall say more, when we come to treat of the
relation between the nervous and muscular systems*

ft«

CHAPTER X.

On the Muscular System*

We have already ftaid that the contractile texture is the
most important texture in those organs called moscles or
muscular ; we have also ^hown that we mean by contractile
texture, a texture that may be excited to contract by a stim-
ulus.'* We think it proper to call every organ in the animal
system, which possesses the contractile texture, a muscular
organ, whether custom approve of our doing so or not. —
Hence, to determine whether an organ be muscular or not,
we do not pick it to pieces, and squint at it with our poor
eyes, to see if we can discover good large red fibres ; but we
query whether or no it contract on the application of a stim-
ulus. Should the oi^gan be so minute, so situated, or its con-
tractions so trifling, that we cannot discover its contrac-
tions with our senses, we consult reason. — Should there be
several facts which may better be accounted for by supposing
such organ to contract, than in any other way ; and if there
be no one fact to prove that such organ does not contract,
we conclude that it contracts, and of course, call it a muscu-
;lar organ.

In man, and in all the higher orders of animals, there are
two muscular systems, difiering essentially from each other in
form, in texture, in the nature of the stimuli by which they
are excited into action, and in the functions which they per-
form.

The muscles of one system are under the control of the
will, and are called voluntary muscles, or muscles of animal

* See pages 44 — 46.

%9

life^ and we may sometimes call them the 9olid muscles. The
muscles of the other system are Dot under the control of the
will, and are called involuntary, hollow^ or organic muscles*

The Foluntcuy Musdts^ by their contractions, give rise to
all those actions which a man may perform or not perform, as
be chooses. They are not immediately concerned in the cix-
culatioD of any matter, either fluid, pultaceous, nutritive, or
excrementitious ; hence they are not immediately cpqqemed
in the growth and nutrition of the body : they are immediate-
ly concerned in procuring the materials for this nutrition ;
but the muscles of oi^anic life work upon these materials an4
distribute them to every part of the body. As it is by the
aid of the system of voluntary muscles that we act upon sur-
rounding bodies, and even express our thoughts and sensatioi]^
to .our fellow beings, or in other words, as it is by this system
of muscles that we maintain a relation with the world, around,
it ma J with propriety be called the muscular system ofrtla"
tioui — an appellation already given it by the French physiol-
ogists.

This system of muscles, including its vessels, (which in-
deed are little musculair organs of the organic system,) is of*
more considerable size than any other system of or^ns in the
animal economy. Besides the numerous regions that ihe^
muscles fill, they are generally spread out under the skin, and
protect, like it, the adjacent parts, and like it, can bear the
action of external bodies without the fatal consequences thi^t
would arise from a lesion of the deeper seated organs which
they defend.

From the external form of these muscles, they may be di-
vided into long, broad aiyi short. The long ones occupy i^
general the limbs ; they ^re situated in a sort of fibrous gut-
ter which retains them powerfully, so that when they contnact,

they do not displace themselves as they otherwise would.

12

90

They are in general much thicker in their middle than at
their extremities ; this arises from the abundance of fleshy &•
bres at this part, which fleshy fibres are the proper muscular
or contractile fibres* As you proceed towards thejendsof
these muscles, the contractile fibres become less numerous,
until, in many instances, they wholly disappear ; and what
ekes out the muscle and attaches it to the bone, is a strong,
compact, white cord, which is of a nature altogether diflerent
from the middle or belly of the muscle.

This cord is destitute of sensibility and contractility, two
important physiologica) properties, both of which are possess-
ed by the belly of the muscle. — It takes no active part in the
production of motion, and when separately considered, we
call it a tendojiy and should never thmk of calling it a part of
a muscle, were* it not for the inconvenience that would arise
in describing the muscles, if we did not consider them as in«-
cluding this part.

In some instances the tendon of a muscle is longer than the
fleshy or contractile part.

The long muscles almost always have both of their ends
attached to bones ; and in all such instances, they pass by an
articulation — [an articulation is the union of one bone with
another] — an articulation, too, which admits of a motion be-
tween the bones articulated. This is what we should expect,
knowing that the use of these muscles is, by their contraction,
to move one bone upon another, and thus to produce the mo-
tions of the bodv. Now when a muscle contracts, it does
not move both bones to which it is attached, but it moves
one bone upon the other ; and in speaking of the attachments
of a muscle, we say it aruts from that bone which generally
remains stationary when the muscle contracts, and that it is
VMtriti into the bone which it moves.

I may here remark, if you divide a muscle in a living ani-

91

mal, or an animal thai has been but a short time dead, the
divided ends will retract from each other, — the limb to which
the mascle is attached being in its natural extended position.
This retraction is owing to the organization of the contractile
part of the muscle^ and not to that of its tendinous part. There
are several facts relative to this retraction of the ends of a di-
vided nuascle, worthy of notice. If the animal be in a weak
and sicklj state when the muscle is divided, the retraction
will not be so great as if the animal were strong and healthy.
And in case the animal have recently died, the retraction will
be infinitely less if its death were occasioned by a stroke of
lightning ; by a diffusible and active poison, as prusic acid ;
or by any cause that instantly destroys the secretion of nervous
fluid, than if occasioned by some other cause.

Owing to the above mentioned facts, some physiologists
have ascribed to muscles a physiological property which we
have not mentioned, and which they called tone, or tonicity.
And it must be admitted, that if the extended state of a mus-
cle be its natural state, the retraction which we have mention-
ed is not one of those facts which lead us to say a body is elas-
tic or possesses elasticity — see p. 44. Consequentlythis re-
traction must be ascribed to a property peculiar to organized
beings, that is, a physiological or vital property. But instead
of giving muscles a peculiar property besides their contractil-
ity, on account of this retraction of its divided ends. I would
attribute it to that organization on which their contractility
depends, and say it is a manifestation of contractility without
a stimulus.

The broad voluntary muscles occupy in general the parie-
tes or walls of the cavities of the animal system, as those of
the thorax or abdomen. They form in part these parietes,
defend the internal organs, and at the same time, by their mo-

9^

tioDir assist their functions. Their thickness is not great^
most of them appearing like niuscular membranes.

The short muscles are those in which the three dimensions
are nearly ^qual, having a thickness in proportion to their
width and length. They are generally found in places iq
trhich'mucb power is required, and but small extent of mo-
tion penlQitted.

The muscles which w^ have been speaking of are each en-
closed in a sort of membraneous sheath, and for the most
part are separated from each other to some lictle distance by
the interposition of cellular membrane — the many little cells
of which are sometimes filled with fat. But more than this,
the muscles themselves are formed of bundles of tibies called
lacertij each of which is also enclosed in a sheath of mem-
brane ; these lacerti are also divisible into still smaller bun-
dies, and these again into smaller, apparently .without any li-
mit, — each bundle sQU having a very delicate membrane of
its own.

l^hysiologists suppose, however, that there is an ultimate
muscular fitire, which has its own nervous twig and its own
capillary, nutritive vessel ; and much speculation about the
nature of this fibre has been offered. But at present we will
speak of such fibres, or rather bundles of fibres, as may be
distinguished by the naked eye.

In some muscles, even \ery long ones, the fibres run the
vi^hole length of the fleshy mass ; bat in other cases they have
an oblique direction forming what are called penniform mus-
cles. In such cases there is a membrane in the body of the
inuscle to which the fibres are attached.

dichat says, that ^' Every muscular fibre runs its course
Irithoiit bifurcating or dividing in any manner." He says^
too. that " All the fibres of the voluntary muscles are straight,
(hose of the sphincters excepted*" Yet when a muscle is lib-

93

erated from it9 attacbmeDts, it may contract so as to give its
fibres a ware-like appearance*

Much more force is required to rupture living than dead
muscular fibres, or ia other words, when an animal is in that
condition called livings the particles of matter which consti-
tute its muscular fibres adhere together in a much greater de-
gree than when such animal is dead. But this is not the case
with the fibrous textures ; to which class of textures belong
the tendons of which we have been speaking.

This fact relative to the difference of strength in the living
and dead muscular fibres, 1 consider as one among very ma-
ny others tending to show that the muscular system, during a
state of health, is as constantly receiving a fluid from the ner-
vous system as from tho sanguineous*

With respect to blood vessels, there are no organs so
plentifully supplied with them as the muscles, excepting some
of the viscera* The arteries are distributed among the fibres
in numerous branches, which divide and subdivide with so
much minuteness, as at length to become no longer visible*
The capillary veins are equally as numerous as the arteries,
but the marner in which the arteries are connected with the
veins, is not accurately ascertained*

The apparatus of nerves which is sent to the muscles, is
very considerable ; and especially to those which arc under
the control of the will, being greater, in proportion to their
size, than to any other part of the body, except the organs of
the senses*

As to the size and nature of the ultimate muscular Jihre^ or
that fibre which cannot be divided without a breach of sub-
stance, the microscopical anatomists do not agree* Leeuwen-
boek supposed that many thousands of them united to form
one visible fibre* Sir A. Carlisle describes the ultimate fibre
as a solid cylinder, the covehug of which is a reticulated

94

membrane, and the contained part a pulpy substance rega-
larly granulated, and ofvery little cohesive power when dead*
Bauer makes out that it is about 1-2000 ofan inch in diam-
eter ; some have considered it as straight, some as zig-zag or
waved, some as knotted, some as being solid and others as
hollow, while others consider it as jointed, consisting of a
number of parts connected together like a row of beads.

Another opinion was, that it is entirely composed ofves*
sets, either possessing some peculiar arrangement or consist-
ing of the small branches of arteries. Another opinion zeal-
ously defended by Cullen, was, that the muscular tibres are
continuous with those of the nerves ; — that they are in fact
nerves under a different structure, &c. &c. But all these
conjectures do not help us In iKe leofit to explain the pheno-
mena of contraction ; and I only advance them to show that
learned men of renown have suffered themselves to advance
notions that are not in themselves plausible, and if true, do
not help us to explain any thing.

We have already said that if the nerves going to a volunta-
ry muscle be divided or compressed, in any part of their
course from the brain to the muscle,* the will has no more
power over the muscle until the nerves be restored to their
natural state again. Wc may here add, that if the arteries
be tied so that no blood can go to the muscles, or the veins
tied so that the blood cannot return from them, their contrac-
tility is soon extinct.

«

We believe that the nerves going to the voluntary muscles
answer two purposes, not to say any thmg about feeling.-^
One purpose is the same as that which the nerves of the in-

* So far as it respects this, and the like operations, the spi-
■al cord may be considerpcl as one great nervous trunk, giving off
hranchti tQ ibe partSj to which we comuionly say it gives offyierve^.

95

volantary muscles fulfil, to wit : convey something to them
which intimately unites with them, and assists in making out
that organization on which their contractility — their proper-
ty of being excited to contract — depends* The other pur*
pose 16 to communicate to them whatever it is that is the im-
mediate cause of their contractions.

Many attempts have been made to explain the phenomena
of muscular contractions, that is, to point out the changes or
events which precede it, and the order in which these events
occur ; but it is not necessary to the accomplishment of any
of my present designs, to lay these attempts before the read"*
er. ] shall advance my own notions m the next chapter.

One remarkable circumstance respecting muscular con-
traction is, that aft^r a stimulus has been applied for some time,
the contraction ceases, although the stimulus continues to be
applied. Th'*3 is observed in all experiments upon muscles,
with either mechanical or chemical agents ; it likewise takes
place in all natural operations of the system, and is to be ob-
served in a remarkable degree in the voluntary muscles. In
performing any voluntary act which we strongly desire to
perform, we find ourselves unable to persevere in the action
beyond a certain length of time, even if our lives depended
on such perseverance. But merely by resting for a certain
time, we may be again able to commence the action, espe-
cially if the system be well nourished. Respecting this cir-
cumstance, I know of no facts that prove conclusively
whether the muscles lose their power to contract by their
continued exercise, or whether the failure is owing to a lack
of that which causes them to contract ; or we will say, a lack
of stimulus, be the nature of this stimulus what it may.

Respecting the relaxation of muscles, it is generally con-
sidered as merely a passive effect, and I believe this opinion
is correct so far as it respects the voluntary musclesi but not

96

80 a6 it respects the hollow or involuntary. And when one
considers all ihe circumstances which relate to these two clas-
ses of muscles, it does appear to roe that be can find no diffi*
cult]' in admitting that what we call the relaxation of one set,
is different in its nature from what we call the relaxation of
the other set.

In the case of the voluntary muscles, their constituent par-
ficles have, at all times, ^ tendency to approach each other
more closely than they do in their ordinary state of being, as
is proved by what takes place ^hen we divide a muscle which
is not liberated from its attachments ; but owing to circum-
stances, this tendency of its particles must be increased be-
fore they can approach each other more closely* Now what
are these circumstances ? Why, the muscles are attached to
the bones at both ends, which bones cannot be moved with-
out some force ; but more than this, the voluntary muscles
have their antagonist muscles, which, as we may say, are con-
tinually pulling the contrary way. But when the cerebral stim-
ulus shoots along down into a certain set of muscles, it gives
their particles so strong a tendency to approach each othery
that they do so, notwithstanding the powers which they must
overcome in doing so ; but as soon as the cerebral stimulus
ceases to operate, these powers (the antagonist muscles, the
weight of some parts and theclasticity of others,) bring the
contracted muscles batk again to their former state of relax-
ation ; hence this relaxation is a passive effect. It is not
brought about by the inherent powers of the muscles which
relax, but by other powers.

But mark the circumstances of the hollow muscles, for in-
stance the heart. The situation of this hollow muscle is such
that the constituent particles of its contractile fibres may at all
limes approach each other as closely as they are disposed to.
The fibres of this organ are not generally on the stretch ;—

97

take the heart out of the body and empty out all the fluids
which it may contain, and its fibres will not shorten ; in oth-
er words, the heart will not approach the state which it is in
when contracted, as the solid muscles will when liberated
from their attachments. Cut a gash in the heart, and the cut
surfaces will not recede Uke the cut extremities of solid mus-
cles.

From these and other facts which might be adduced, it is
evident that the heart is so organized that it has a tendency
to remain in that state, which is called the dilated or relaxed
state. Its constituent particles do not want, iff may so say,
to be any nearer each other than they are when the heart is
dilated ; on the contrary, they are disposed to be as distant
from each other as they are when the heart is in this state i-^
this is their natural state of coaptation. Nevertheless, such
is the relation between the fibres of the heart and the blood,
that when the blood comes into the heart, it causes the con-
stituent particles of the hearths contractile fibres to approach
each other more closely ; or in other words, causes the heart
to contract. This contraction forces the Blood out of the
heart, that is, removes the agent which caused the contrac-
tion. This being done, the constituent particles of the heart
recede to their former wonted relations, as they have a strong
tendency to do. Hence we see that what is called the relax-
ation or diastole of the heart, is not a passive event ; it is
done by the heart's own powers, and it would require a force
to prevent it, instead of its being caused by the operation of
a distinct agent. And instead of saying the blood pours into
the heart and dilates it, we ought to say the heart dilates and
sucks in the blood. But, as we have shown, it is altogether
diiTerent with the voluntarv muscles — the muscles which
have antagonists; the particles ofthese muscles cannot enjoy

the privilege of being iu as close contact as they are disposed

13

08

lo be, except they be enabled, by times, by the cerebral stiin*
tilos ; but as soon as this fugitive cause ceases to operate,
they are drawn asunder even further than they are disposed to
be, and the muscle is said to be relaxed.

This, then, is the conclusion : — The heart in a living state
is disposed to be dilated, and the blood must act upon it to
bring it out of this state ; but when the blood is removed, the
heart resumes its dilated state with some considerable force,
and of its own inherent tendency ; as would a caoutchouc
bag or bottle, after being compressed in on all sides. Yet I
do not think it strictly proper to say the heart is elastic or pos-
sesses elasticity on account of its dilating itself after suiiering
contraction : I think it would not be proper, because we ap-
ply the word elastic to (hose bodies, the particles of which
have a manifest tendency to resume their former relations af-
ter being displaced by mechanical force ; and every bod 7
who knows what mechanical force is, and what the heart ie,
knows that the heart is not caused to contract by such force.
If I must say the heart possesses a property^ because, after
contracting it dilates as it does, (and I have just as good rea-
son to say so, as I have to say vinegar possesses the property
of acidity,) I would rather name this property extensihilily
ihan elasticity. And we should say that the distinction be-
tween extensibility an3 elasticity is very obvious — extensibil-
ity being invariably confined to the contractile organs, and
manifesting itself after the operation of a stimulus ; whereas
elasticity invariably manifests itself after the operation of a
mechanical force. Stop, — this moment it occurs to me that
there is an objection to this use of the word extensibility : — ^it
ha§ been used to denote the ability of being extended, where-
as I have used it to denote the faculty of an organ to ei^tend
itself.— What if we should use the words active and passive to
distinguish these two kinds of extensibility,*— «aying that when

90

■

an organ bas the faculty of extending itself, it possesses active
extensibility ; but when it barely admits of being extended
by a distinct agent, it possesses passive extensibility ?

In support of the above speculations, it may be remarked^
that by grasping the heart of a bullock which is so detached
that it cannot be caused to dilate by the rushing in of the
blood, a uun cannot prevent its dilatation, as I remember to
have read somewhere in Bichat's System of General Anato-
my* And furthermore, we cannot give a satisfactory explan-
ation of the circulation of the venous blood, but by supposing
the heart to dilate by virtue of its own organization, and to
suck it up. But this is not the place to speak of the proper^
ties and functions —

Of the Involuntary Muscles. These muscles, like the vol-
untary^ are far from being entirely composed of the contrac-
tile texture v but we shall not notice particularly the less im«
portant textures of which they are in part constituted.

They constitute a system of organs which agree with each
other in being hollow, in being excited to contract by their
contents, and (with the exception of a few, more immediate-
Ij concerned in generation,) in being wholly subservient to
the growth and well being of the individual of which they are
a part.

This system comprises the alimentary canaK (with the ex-
ception of its extremities, the muscles of which receive nerves
^ from the animal system, and of course are under the control
of the will,) the heart, and the infinite number of contractile
vessels concerned in the circulation of the blood, in nutrition,
secretion, exhalation, and perhaps absorption ; it includes

■

also the uterus, the bladder, in short, every vessel, whether
tubulated or spheroidal, which is excited to contract by its
contents*
Of these orgaoa we most take more particular notice, that

r»--P'''C;3/

•- r ^

100

we maj know more of the animal system, and be better pre-
pared for explaining many of its interesting phenomena.

Besides the two extremities above mentioned, the alimen-
tary canal consists of an oesophagus, a stomach, and an intes-
tine ; which last is about six times the length of the system,
[head, body, and lower limbs ;] and having particular names
applied to particular parts of it, we often speak of intestines
as though there were more than one in the same animal.

The oesophagus extends from the mouth to the stomach ;
it is that part wh\ch is vulgarly called the meat-pipe. When
it is empty, its sides collapse, so as to be in contact, or nearly
BO ; but like the stomach and intestines, it possesses no small
degree of passive extensibility ; it has, like the intestines, two
sets of muscular fibres, circular and longitudinal; the food
passing from the mouth to the stomach excites such an action
of these fibres as assists in propelLng it along ; — it is not car-
ried along solely by its own weight : if the oesophagUf> pos-
sessed no propelling power, a few mouthfuls swallowed by a
man lying horizontally, or with his head loWest, would pot
reach his stomach*

As soon as the oesophagus passes out of the thorax into the
abdomen, it ends, that is to say, the ahmentary canal sudden-
ly widens out at this place, and presently contracts again so
as to form a sac with two openings. This sac is what anato-
mists call stomachj and is quite a dilTerent organ, and lies in a
somewhat lower region than what many people appear to
think when they lay their hands upon the anterior part of
the thorax, and speak of a weakness of the stomach, of pain
in the stomach, &c.

The superior orifice of the stomach, or that which leads
to tlje oesophagus, is called the cardiac orifice ; the inferior^
leading to the intestines, is called pylorus or pyloric orifice.
Each of these orifices is surrounded with a considerable

101

quantity of muscular or contractile fibres, in such a nnanner
as to form sphincters, which may close their orifices com-
pletelj. It is by means of its sphincter that the pylorus is
closed so as to retain the food in the stomach until it has un-
dergone due changes. We shall presently notice an inter-
esting fact relative to the action of the pylorus.

When the stomach is empty it is collapsed ; when full, it
approaches the conical form, though considerably curved*
That extremity towards the cardiac orifice is the largest, and
lies towards the left side ; the lesser or pyloric extremity is a
little io the right of the centre of the body; as the stomach
lies obliquely across tlie body, inclining a little downwards
from left to right, the pyloric extremity is somewhat lower
than the cardiac extremity.

The stomach is capable of being extended by our foods
and drinks so as to contain from two to six pmts, and in some
rare cases, much more : instances of Limosis Experns or in-
satiable craving for food, are given, in which a boy only
twelve years of age has taken in six successive days 384
pounds avoirdupois of foods and drinks ; — in which a lady has
devoured fourteen hundred herrings at a meal,* &:c. &c.

It is probable that in such cases as these, some of the food
begins to pass out of the stomach into the intestines befofis the
person has done his baiting ; but in common cases the food
is retained in the stomach an hour or two before the pylorus
suffers it to pass into the bowels*

The stomach, as well as the intestines, consists of three la-
minae or membraneous coats besides its muscular* One of
these coats performs such important offices, that we must
take notice of it. It is the internal coat, and is called the
mucous or villous coat ; it is continuous with the internal or

• See Good's <' Study of Medicine/' vol. 1, p. 73.

102

mucous coat of the oesophagus and intestines, and like them
possesses an apparatus for secreting a bland viscid fluid called
^ mucus ; but it is dfa different structure from the mucous coat
ofthe^e organs, and possesses an apparatus for secreting a
fluid of great solvent powers, cMed gastric Jtmd, This fluid,
though destitute of any remarkable sensible qualities, has the
power of producing great changes on the materials taken into
the stomach. It has frequently been known to dissolve the
coats of the stomach itself, in cases where healthy pet sons,
have been suddenly killed, as by accident, whose stomachs
contained a portion of this fluid in a high state of perfection,
without any materials in the stomach, for it to work upon* It
is very generally admitted among medical men, that the pre-
tence of this fluid in the stomach without materials for it to
mix with, is the cause of the sensation of hunger. Hunger
maybe relieved by taking this fluid from the stomach by
means of an elastic tube introduced down the oesophagus.

In cases of inordinate appetite for food, this fluid may be
more abundant, or of a more active nature than in health, or
what in many cases appears more probable, the mucus of the
stomach which is calculated to defend its surface from the ac*
tion of the gastric fluid, may be deficient.

Whatever afiects the secretion of this fluid, so as to impair
its quality or diminish its quantity, injures the appetite ; hence
we shall be able to show, in the course of this work, how
certain passions take oflfthe appetite, or interrupt the proper
digestion of a meal of victuals already down. — It will be re-
membered that lUe stomach receives some of its nerves more
directly from the brain than any other abdominal organ.

Like all organs which perform important functions, and
especially all oi^ans which secrete a fluid, the stomach re-
ceives a large proportion of blood.

The function of the stomach is to convert the food into

103

xhytat^ aDd to propel it into the intestines. The ehyme is
generalij described as being a homogeneous^ pultaceous, grey-
ish substance ; hut its properties depend much on the kind
of aliment, and on the condition of the stomach as being
healthy or unhealthy.

The stomach converts the food into chyme by means of its
gastric fluid, and it propels the chyme into the bowels by
means of its muscular coat ; the action of this coat also as-
Bists the gastric juice in coming in contact with the materials
in the stomach, by moving the chyme onward, out of its way,
towards the pyloric orifice, as fast as it is formed.

If any indigestible substance, as a piece of metal, present
itself at the pyloric orifice for a passage into the bowels, it is
not at first permitted to pass, for it excites a contraction of
the sphincter of this orifice — this contraction not being con-
fined to the orifice alone, but extending along towards the
cardiac extremity, the indigestible substance is woiked back
again, for the intent, as it were, of undei^oing still longer the
action of the gastric fluid. Some time after this a contraction
again commences at the cardiac extremity, and again works
the substance along towards the pylorus, but it is perhaps
again thrown back as before ; but after soliciting a passage
several times, it is at length permitted to pass the pylorus, al-
though it have sufiered no essential change by lying so long
in the stomach. This curious fact we cannot explain, but
by referring it to the influence of habit. We say that in time
the pyloric orifice becomes so habituated to the stimulus of
the indigestible substance, that it does not excite it to con-
tract to so great a degree as at first, and hence it is permitted
to pass. Some other phenomena occur in the animal sys*
tern, analogous to this.

About twelve inches of the tipper extremity of thp intes-^
tine-— the extremity that is connected with the stomach at its

104

pyloric orifice — is called duodenum. The diameter of this
portion is much larger thc^n the diameter oiihe jejunum or the
ileum^ the two next portions in order. A duct from the liver
called the hepatic duct, and a du^t from the gall bladder call-
ed the cystic duct, unite and form the ductus choUdocus com"
viunis ; this common duct, and a duct from the pancreas, open
into the duodenum by one common orifice. Bile is convey-
ed into this intestine by the common bile duct, and a fluid
analogous to the saliva or spittle, by the pancreatic duct.

The pancreas is a long, tapering, glandular body, of a dull
vhite color, tinged with red, and extending transversely across
the upper and back part of the abdomen ; — it is that part
which is commonly called the sweet-bread ; — it secretes the
pancreatic fluid.

The ohyme having passed from the stomach into the duo-
denum, is here united with the bile and the pancreatic fluid,
and is converted, much of it, into a fluid much resembling
milk, called chyle ; what is not converted into chyle is of no
use in the animal economy, and is called excrementitious mat-
ttr. This matter, together with the chyle, is propelled by
the peristaltic motion of the duodenum into the jejunum,
where much of the chyle is taken up by the thousands of mi-
nute vessels that open on the inner surface of this intestine.
These minute vessels are called lacieals — We shall speak of
them presently. But all the cY\y\e is pot taken up by the lac-
teals that open on the inner surface of the jejunum, for the
peristaltic motion that commences in the duodenum, or even
in the stomach, continues downward, through the whole ex-
tent of the bowels, or nearly so, and by it much of the chyle
is hurried on, as it were, from the jejunum into the ileum,
where it is taken up by the other lacteals opening into this
intestine ; but the excrementitious matter is propelled into
the laige intestines, viz. the coecuui, the colon and the rectum.

1Q5

The peristaltic motion of the int^tines ifl effected by a
contnction of those cootrtctile fibres which form Ihet^ niaa-
cuiar coat ; and these fibre? are excited to contract by the
matter contained by the intestines ; hence such n^atter npay
be called their stimulus, in a healthy state this cpntractioa
commences in the upper extremity of the intestinf^i canal, and
proceeds gradually downwards. It is of such a nature that
the diameter of the canal is very much Ie88ene4 wherever it
exists $ but it exists only in a small extent of the canal at one
time I for relaxation follows close after contraction. We
have reason to suppose that the contraction is so greaf, in
some instances, as to bring the sides of the canal nearly or
quite in contact ; for although some of the intestineSt as thjs
colon, make such turns that whatever passes them must be
forced perpendicularly up, against its own gravity, still quick*
silver is thus forced up, as is proved by its having passed ffoqi
the mouth through the body.

Among the involuntary contractile organs, I think we ipay
class the atsorbenis. It is true we can discover no such look-
in|i; fibres in the absorbent vessels a^ w(S can ip most ipuscu-
lar organs ; but we do not determine whether an orgf^^ bp
muscular by its appearance, but by its properties : if it may
be excited to contract by a stimulus, we call it muscular ; for
it is evident that it possesses more or less contractile fibres.
Now it is certain that the absorbent vessels circulate their
contents, and tlie most rational supposition is, that they do |t
in part at least by contraction*

Two classes of vessels, not to mention certain glands, cpip-
pose what is commonly calfed the absorbent system. Tlip
lacieah above mentioned constitute one class ; the vesi^^^s
that constitute the other class are called lyniphatics.

It is generally believed that every organ in the syftem

possesses lymphatic vessels, though none have beep discover*

14

106

dd ID ttiebraiDi notwithstanding thejiiave been much sought
after. Their proper function is a disputed question ; for
experiments prove, and some pathological facts seem to show
that (be veins may absorb liquids^ and if the veins can absorb,
of what use are the lymphatic? ?

I conjecture it is the proper function of the lymphatics to
to eat down, as it were, and carry off the sdtd parts' of the
body, which parts are continually recruited by another set of
Tessels, which may be called nutritive vessels, but which, in
fact^ are exceedingly minute branches' of the arterial system.

1 know of no facts tending to show that the lymphatics do
not perform this office, nor of any facts provmg that tlie veins
do perform it ; and we can but believe that the lymphatics
have some peculiar office to perform — ^an office which can*
not, under the present arrangement, or nature of things, be
performed by the veins.

Almost all physiologists admit that all parts of the body are
continually undei^oing changes* the old matter being remov*
ed and new deposited, so that the atoms which composed the
body calledG.W. in 1775, were none of them present, perhaps,
in the body still called G. W. in 1 790. But it may hereafter
be admitted that the brain suffers no such changes.

The lymphatics from the lower extremities, and the lacteals
from the jejunum and ileum, unite into one common duct, in
the abdomen; this duct passes along up from the abdomen,
very near the spine, to the upper part of the thorax, and opens
into the left subclavian vein, pouring into the sanguineous sys-
tem both lymph and chyle, mixed together. . Other lymphat-
ic vessels from the superior extremities, and from those parts
of the head which are exterior to the brain, open into the
right and left subclavian veins.

The lymph we consider as the old worn out matter of the
system ; the chyle as the nutritive matler, to supply the place

107

oftbeold. After entering the veins, both kinds of matter
soon reach the heart, mixed with the blood*

The heart is a hollow muscular oi^gan, of a conical form,
enclosed in a membraneous sac, called pericardiuA^^ and is
situated pretty near the centre of the thorax. It is placed
obliquely in the body, so (hat its base presents backward and
to the right, and its apex forward and to the left. Its cavitj
IS partitioned into four apartments^ two of which are called
auricles, and the other two, ventricles — the auricles form the
base of the cone and receive the blood from the veins ; the
ventricles form the body and apex, and force the blood into
the arteries. — We say that one auricle and one ventricle be-
long to the right side of the heart, and Xhe other auricle and
ventricle to the left side. The walls of the heart, particular-
ly around the ventricles, are very thick and powerful, being
composed almost entirely of contractile fibres which cross
each other in various directions.

Two great veins, called vena cavm^ which bring blood from
every part of the body^ open into the right auriclej from
above and from below ; the right auricle opens into the right
ventricle, and from the right ventricle arises the pulmonary
artery^ which passes to the lungs. The pulmonary veins^
which bring back the blood from the lungs, open into the left
auricle ; this auricle opens into the left ventricle, and from
this ventricle proceeds the great artery, called the aorta,
which carries blood to every part of the body.

At the instant the right auricle contracts, the right ventricle
dilates, and not only lets in the blood, hut, as we belie?e> sucks
it in from the right auricle *, but there is a valve so situated
over the aperture by which the blood enters the ventricle,
that when the ventricle contracts, this valve shuts down, and
the blood, instead of passing back into the auricle, is, forced
«p into the jpulmonary artery } but this artery is also furnish*

108

ed trith Viilves at its otigin, bo sitaated that, although theysaf'
fer the blood to pass info the artery, they will not permit it
to returb into the ventricle, when it again dilates, and when
the artery contracts upon it, pushing it along into its branch-
es. The pulmonary artery divides and bubdivides into inna-^
merable minute branched, which ramify in the delicate niem-
braifes which form the air cells of the lungs. — Concerning
these atr ceilU, ye mu&t »ay a few words in this place*

What are called the lungs, are two bodies of minute cellSy
if we may so say, — one body is called the right lung, the other
ttte left ; in shape they somewhat resemble the hoofs of an
ox : the heart is situated between them, but they are united
iabove the heart. These minute cells are formed by very-
thin membranes, and they communicate with each other in
fiuch a manner that the air toming down the trachea or wind-
'pipe during inspiration, may find its way into every one of
them. These are the air cells. They are far from being
entirely emptied by expiration ; but the air generally remain-
ing in the lungs is estimated at about 2000 cubic inches, and
ihe quantity drawn in and forced out by each inspiration and
expiration, is estimated at about 300 cubic inches. The air
in the cells keeps them expanded, or in other words, keeps
%eir parietes stretched out in such a manner that the vessels
of these parietes. which are very numerous, circulate their
fluids with much more facility than they otherwise would. —
Often the venous blood becomes so collected about the right
aide of the heart as to give rise to a slight sensation, which
may be relieved by deep inspirations or by yawning ; for in
this way much air is inhaled — ^the air cells are expanded,
and the circulation of the blood through the lungs facilitated.
But this is far (Vom being the important use of the air in the
lutigs.

Tlieliir Cdnristsof 31 parts of oxygen and 79 of nitrogen

109

ehetnicallj united ; there is also mixed with it considerable
aqueous vapour, and a small proportion of carbonic acid gas \
the proportion of this acid is variable^ but generally one hun-
dred parts of air contain one of the acid.

The oxjgen is so essential to the existence of animals, that
they die when deprived of it but for a few minutes. Conse-
quently, by being breathed, the air sufiers a change, not only
in its chemical composition, but in the materials which are
mixed with it : instead of consisting of 21 parts of oxygen,
79 of nitrogen, one of carbonic acid, and some aqueous va-
pour, the expired air contains 18 or 19 parts of oxygen, 3 or
4 of carbonic acid, and a great quantity of vapour, called pul-
monary transpiration — the proportion of nitrogen remaining
nearly the same. In some instances of hard drinkers, this
pulmonary transpiration becomes so loaded with alcoholic
matter that it is inflammable ; in such cases the individual
had better be careful about breathing into a candle, unless be
wishes to have his thorax blown to pieces.

Now the venous blood which is found not only in the veins,
but in the right auricle and ventricle of the heart, and in the
pulmonary artery, is of a brown red colour, but when it passes
throu^ the minute branches of the pulmonary artery which
ramify in the thin membranes which form the air cells, it suf-
fers great changes — it assumes^ bright scarlet colour; its
odour becomes more sensible, its taste more distinct'; its
temperature rises about one degree ; a part of its serum or
more aqueous portion passes off, constituting a part of the
pulmonary transpiration, and its tendency to coagulate aug-
ments. The venous blood having suffered these changes, be-
comes arterial blood. That these changes are produced by
the operation of the oxygen of the air, is manifest, from
the fact, that if there be any other gas in the lungs, or if
the air be not suitably renewed, these changes do not take

lid

•

place. Blood exposed to air or to the action of pure oxygen
gas, out of the body, sufiers a like change of colour. Indeed,
if you put venous blood into a moist bladder, and plunge it in-
to oxygen gas, it becomes scarlet all over its surface. Hence
we need not wonder that the very delicate vascular walls
which, in the lungs, separate the blood from the air, are no
obstacle to the changes of the blood which the air. produces.
But it may be inquired how the oxygen produces these chan-
ges in the venous blood. Chemists are not agreed upon this
point. Sotne think that it combines directly with the blood ;
others that it removes from the blood a certain quantity of
•arbon ; and tliere are others again, who are inclined to be-
lieve that both these effects take place.

When the nervous blood is changed into arterial, in the
lungs, it does not immediately pass into arteries, but into mi-
nute venous branches, which collect into four trunks, called
pulmonary veins. These four veins convey the blood to the
left auricle of the heart ; when the left ventricle dilates, it re^
ceives the blood from the auricle ; but the aperture by which
it receives it is furnished with a valve, so that when the ven-
tricle contracts, the blood is not forced back into the auricle,
but into the aoita, which is the great artery that, by its innu-
merable branches, conveys blood to every part of the body.

This great artery, togeth^ with its branches, forms what is
commonly called the arterial system, for the objects accom-
plished by this system of vessels arc altogether different from
the object accomplished by the pulmonary artery. This last
does not carry any thing to the lungs for their growth or main-
tenance ; its office is to carry the blood to the lungs that it
m-iy undergo the changes above mentioned. Ttie substance
of the lungs receives its proper arteries from the common
aortic arterial system, by which it is nourished, as does every
0therpart of the body.

m

When the branches of the aorta, becnnie as small as hairs,
and even some of them so much smaller as to be invisible to
the naked eye, they are called capillary vessels. Such mi*
nute blanches of veins may also be called capillary vessels.
Hence, not to say a word about the lymphatics and lacteals,
we have too grand divisions of capillary vessels — those of the
arterial and those of the venous system.

As the aorta divides into branches, its capacity increases,
that is, the calibres of all the branches into which any branch
or trunk may divide, taken together, exceed the calibre of
such branch or trunk. The same holds true with respect to
the veins. Hence we may cori«pare the sanguineous system
to a cone, the apex of which is the heart, and the base of
which is composed of the arterial and venous capillaries, or,
indeed, if we reckon (as we ought) the pulmonary artery and
veins as constituting a part of the sanguineous system, we
may compare it to two cones, the apexes of which meet at
the heart.

It is to be remembered, too, that the smaller the branches,
the greater the proportion of contractile or muscular fibres
which enter into their structure ; this is so much the case,
that we may suppose that the amount of muscular fibres pos-
sessed by the arterial and venous capillaries, equals, perhaps
far exceeds, the quantity of muscular fibres possessed by the
heart, and consequently that the muscular power of the capil-
laries, collectively, equals or exceeds that of the heart.

This supposition, not destitute of support derived from ex-
amining the vessels, as John Hunter has shown, will assist us
in explaining several phenomena, manifested in many diseas**
es and during the existence of the passions, as we shall see in
the course of this woik.

It is admitted on all hands that the arterial capillaries ter-
minate in different ways — some of them lenaiuate in the ca-

lis

pillary veins ; some on the surfaces of membranes, as the skin,
the inner or mucous membrane of the alimentary canal and
urinary passages ; and on the surface of the several serous
membranes ; some terminate in the secretory glands, as the
salivary glands, the liver, kidnies, pancreas, &c. ; others,
again, we must suppose to terminate in the parts in which
they deposit the materials of which the parts are formed, and
by wljich they are kept in repair.

As to our being able to determine, by inspection, where the
arterial capillaries terminate, and where. the venal capillaries
commence, we cannot ; but we may say that so long as the
^uids continue to move from the heart, they are in the arte*
ries ; but when they make such turns as to approach the heart,
they are in the veins* '

All the arterial capillaries that do not terminate in veins,
may be called secreting vessels, because they all sort out, as
it were, certain materials from the blood. What are com-
monly called nulritive vessels, secrete from the blood the ma-
terials of which our organs are formed. Other vessels se*
Crete materials from the blood which are no longer of- any
use in the animal economy ; such are the materials of the
urine and perspirable matter ; others again secrete fluids
which serve important purposes in the animal economy,-— the
bile, the gastric fluid, and many others that might be men-
tioned, are of Ihis description. — It is true, we talk about the
glands secreting ; we say the liver secretes bile, the kidnies
urine, the salivary glands saliva or spittle, &c. &c. This way
of speaking is sufiiciently correct for all common purposes ;
but the physiologist tells you that certain capillary vessels
belonging to these glands, are the immedia-te organs oi sccre-
tioH. We do not suppose any of the venal capillaries secrete.
However, many veins from the bowels unite in one trunk
which enters the hver and there branches out again, and we

us

have some reason to suppose that these branches secrete some
part of the bile ; but admitting that thty do so, these branch-
es in the liver have more of the appearance of arteries than
of veins, and we would eooner call them arteries than admit
that veins secrete.

As some capillaries secrete one kind of fluid, and some
another, and as they all secrete their fluids from one common
fountain, the blood, — the phenomena ofsecretion have given
rise to much speculation. It has not only been a question
bow any one set of vessels secrete any one particular kind of
fluid, but wherein difierent sets of vessels difler, so as to be
able to secrete different kinds of fluids, i shall not notice
all these speculations, but proceed to offer what I consider
the roost rational hypothesis concerning secretion.

I might advance this hypothesis to better advantage after
treating of the relation between the nervous and muscular
systems ; for I must here take certain positions as granted
which I shall labor to support in treating of this relation :— -
nevertheless, I ghall ofier the hypothesis in this place.

] hold that all secreting vessels may be excited to contract
by their contents, and of course possess the property of con-
tractility, and may be called contractile or muscular organs*
But in order that they may be contractile, they must receive
something, by way of their nerves, from the nervous system ;
which something is an invisible fluid, whether you call it
such, or fihether you call it '* nervous energy" or" nervous
influence." I hold, too, that different vessels are diflereutly
tempered — that they receive difierent proportions of nervous
energy ; and partly or wholly on this account their contrac-
tility is difierent, that is, the same materials will not excite
the same degree of contraction in all of them.

Again — different mateiials will not excite the same degree

of action in the same vessels ; hence we know that difierent

15

114

materials, or, if you please, difierent stimuli, possess different
stimulating qualities, md for convenience sake, we shall call
the stimulating quality of a stimulus, its siimahilily.—Bc it
remembered, then, that the stimulus of any hollow muscular
organ is the matter which such organ contains, but siimahUity
is a property of such matter or stimulus.*

We have seen that the contents of the alimentary canal ex-
cite in it a sort of contraction by which they are moved along ;
we have seen that some indigestible substances in the stom-
ach excite such a contraction of the pylorus as prevents their
passing this orifice, and we might have added, that some sub-
stances excite such a contraction of the intestipes as to pre-
vent their passage, giving rise to a species of colic which may
be called constrictive, or spasmodic colic. Now we suppose
that something analogous takes place in those little hollow
muscular organs called the capillaries — we suppose that, in
order that these vessels may circulate any materials, there
must be a certain due relation between the contractility of
the vessels and the stimability of such materials.

If the stimability be too high for the contractility, or, what
is the same thing, if the contractility be too low for the stim-
ability, a sort of constrictive, spasm will be excited in the
vessels, which will prevent the materials from passing ; and

♦ I trust the reader will not be led to think that we make new
things when we only invent new words to express relations belween
agents. A vessel and the material which it contains, are two
agents ; and because the material gives rise to an action of the ves-
sel, we say the material possesses a properly of exciting this ac-
tion, and the vessel possesses a property of being excited — we say
that one possesset^ stimubility. the other coniractiHfy ; but allho'
our langunpe would seem to imply that stimability and contractility
are some'hinp distinct from the agents which are said to possess
then>. still it is not so— they are, in fact, when we come to the nice-
ty of the case, nothing but words of relation. Yet what a mighty
fuss has been ntade in the world about a itvf thitigless names !

115

such material, in order to get along, must take some other
route — some other vascular branch — which is so tempered as
to receive U and be duly excited by it. If it have already
passed by such other vessel, it may be worked back by the
vessel in which it is, to the branching off of such vessel, as
the stomach works back indigestible substances from the py^
lorus -, or it may^ after much teasing^ gain admittance along
the vessel in which it is, the vessel becoming habitnatepl to it,
as (he pylorus becomes habituated to the stimulus of indiges-
tible substances in the stomach ; or it may be removed by
absorbents ; or, lastly, it may prove a more permanent ob-
struction, giving rise to disease* On (he other hand —

If (he strmability be too low for the contractility, or what
is the same thing, if the contractility be too high for the stim-
ability, a propelling action will not be excited. — What thefii
becomes of the material ? Why, it may be absorbed by some
minute absorbent, penetrating the walls of the vessel ; or it
may be pushed on by the vis a tergo of the heart and arteries
until it come to the opening of some branch capable of re-
ceiving it, and of being duly excited by it ; or, thirdly, it may
be pushed through the whole length of the secretory vessel,
and constitute a bland, aqueous part of the secretion, which
will soon be removed by neighboring absorbents ; or, fourth-
ly, it may clog up the vessel, giving ris^ to another kind of ob-
struction* «

Of these four niaybes^ I think the third the most plausi-
ble : we say the vis a tergo of the heart and arteries may push
along materials in remote vessels, which materials are not
capable of exciting a propelling action of the vessejs ; — this
may be gran(ed ; but if there were no such vis a tergo^ these
materials might, perhaps, be worked along, mixed with other
materials capable of exciting an action of the vessels ; hence,
as some mild materials may, in one way and another, get

worked along through yessels not calculated to .circulate
them, and thus constitute a part of a secreted fluid, I am in-
clined to think that the sole use of those absorbents which
open into cavities that contain secreted fluids, is to remove
those parts of the fluid that are secreted, as we may say, by
accident.

We would not maintain that each secreting capillary of
any organ secretes some of all the kinds of materials that en-
ter into the secreted fluid of such organ ; that is, we would
not maintain that each secreting capillary of the liver, for in-
stance, secretes a portion of perfect bile, but that one vessel
secretes one constituent principle of bile, another another
principle, and so on, and that these different principles com-
ing together, unite according to their chemical affinities, and
form the bile.

Jf we say that each vessel pours out a portion of perfect
bile, we must admit such bile is formed before it is poured
out, and it would be more difficult to offer any plausible con-
jecture how it is formed in individual vessels, than to ad-
admit that different vessels secrete different principles, which,
coming together in Uttle cavities, unite according to their
chemical affinities.

According to the view of secretion now offered, we see
why one set of vessels secrete one kind of fluid, and another
another kind ; it is -not because 4heir calibres are different,
and the particles of matter, secreted by different vessels, are
of different sizes, so as just to fit the calibres of the vessels by
which they are secreted ; but it is because different sets of
vessels are endowed, as we may say, with different degrees of
contractility, and hence are excited into due action by differ-
ent materials* From this view of secretion we also not only
see the use of the nerves of the minute vessels, but we shall be
enabled to show bow secretion is influenced by affections of

the nervous system ; how anger promotes the secretion of
bile, how fear gives rise to the secretion of a large quantity of
a limpid urine, &c. &c.

We have now given a brief, and conse(|uently, imperfect
sketch of the anatomy and functions of the involuntary mus'
cular system. It will be remembered, that what we call the
muscles of this system are hollow^ contractile organs ; that
they are not under the control of the will — not excited to
contract by the cerebral stimulus, but that their natural stimu*
lus is their contents; that they<io not, like the voluntary
muscles, receive their nerves directly from the nervous sys-
tem of animal life, but from the nervous system of orgaoic
life ; that they are endowed with but a very low degree of
sensibility, and that they are organs, not of re/a/io7t, but of
growth and nutrition*

-00-

CHAPTER XI.

Ort the Relation rohich subsists between the Muscular and Acr-

vous Systems,

We are now about to enter upon a subject which has inter-
ested physiologists more, perhaps, than any other one, and
which is of more importance than one would at first appre-
hend. It is relative to a point which the learned Dr. Bos-
tock says may be stated thus : — " When a stinnulant acts up-
on a muscular fibre, so as to produce contraction, d6es it act
immediately upon the fibre itself, or does it always act through
the intervention' of a nerve? The nerves are the organs of
sensation ; when, therefore, a muscle receives the impression
^f a stimulant, is not this impression always, in the first in-

118

stance, roccived upon the nervous matter distributed (brougli
the muscle, and the impression then transferred from the
nerve to the muscular fibre ?"

To say that the stimulant or impression acts immediately
upon the muscular fibre, would be the same, according to for-
mer writers, as to answer the following question in the affir-
mative : — Is the power of the muscular system independent
of the nervous system ? But to say that stimulants always
act upon the muscular fibres through the intervention of their
nervesy would be the same, according to these writers, as to
say that the power of the muscular system is dependent on the
nervous ^y^tem.

From what is here said, we learn what those who have
meddled with this subject, me^n by the question, — Is the
power, i. e. the contraclility of the muscular system, inde-
dependent of the nervous system ? They mean, — Does a
stimulant, when it produces contraction, always act directit/
upon the muscular fibre, or indirectly^ as through the medium
of nerves ?

Now the question which we shall put, and the negative
side of which we shall endeavor to establish, we shall put in
the same words, to wit : Is the power of the muscular system
independent of the nervous system ? Still this is not the ques-
tion about which physiologists have written so much, for we
do not mean the same by it that they do by theirs^ though
asked in the same words. We do not mean to ask in what
way a stimulus excites a contraction ; whether it act directly
upon the texture which contracts, or through the medium of
nerves, and of course indirectly ; but we mean by our ques-
tmn this : — Do not the muscles receive something from the ner-
vous system by way of their nerves, as they 'do from the san-
guineom system by zvay of their arteries — which something is
essential in making out and sustaining that organization on

119

which their ability to contract depends ? Wchave said that we
shall endeavor to establish the negative of this question, that
is, that they Jo receive something from the nervous system, or
what is the same thing, that their power is not independent
of the nervous system.

It appears that ph} siologists have been unable to settle the
(|uestion, — Is the power of the muscular system independent
of the nervous system ? because this question has been asked
and understood in a wrong sense — in such a sense that if we
answer it in the affirmative or in the negative, we do not
state the truth of the matter, for as it respects one part of the
muscular system, (the voluntary,) stimulants do act upon the
muscular fibres through the intervention of nerves ; but as it
respects the involuntary part, they act immediately upon the
miisculai fibres, ft seems, also, that they would inquire
whether nerves are in all cases necessary to muscular contrac*
tion ; and that ih^j take it for granted, that if they be, they
act \n a certain way ; but on thinking over facts, some physi-
ologi:it8 conclude that they do not act in this certain way, and
of course conclude that nerves are not necessary to muscular
contraction in all cases. I say it seems that physiologists
would inquire thus ; but nothing is more obvious than that
nerves are always necessary in the production of voluntary
contractions. Hence some physiologists have inquired whe-
ther nerves are necessary to contractility^ which is quite a dif-
ferent thing from contraction : contractility is a property^

m

and may exist without contraction, which is an action.

But how does this question comport with what Bostock
says is (he grand question at issue ? He says (and I believe he
states the question in the sense in which it is understood even
by those who query whether contractility is independent of
the nervous system,) that the question is this : " When a stim-
ulant acts upon a muscular fibre so as to produce contraction,

120

does it act immediatelj upon the fibre itself, or does it alvrays
act through the intervention of a nerve ?'' is this questioning
whether contractility is independent of the nervous system ?
May not a nius':u)ar 6bre be contractile, and may it not re-
ceive something from the fervous system which enables it to
be so, even if a stimulant act immediately upon the muscular
fibre ? If it may, then contractility may be dependent on the
nervous system, although a stimulus act immediately upon the
muscular fibre.

The truth is, those who inquire whether con/rac/i/iry, and
not contraction, is independent of the nervous system, would
be understood to inquire whether a stimulant acts immediately
upon the muscular fibre, when it excites contraction. Of
course,, if you prove that it does, then you prove to these
physiologists th«'it contractility is independent of the nervous
system ; but if you prove that it always acts through the in-
tervention of a nerve, then you prove to these physiologists
that contractiKty is dependent on the nervous system.

Now, as we have said, our question, though asked in the
same words, is altogether different from this. When we ask
whether contractilrty is independent of the nervous system,
we do not query whether a stimulant always acts immediately
upon the muscular fibre in exciting contraction, and not
through the intervention of a nerve ; but we query whether
muscular fibres receive something from the nervous system
by way of their nerves, as they do from the sanguineous sys-
tem by way of their arteries, which is essential in making out
and maintaining that organization on which their ability to
contract depends. That they doj 1^ w4ial we shall endeavor
to prove.

We need not labor to show that all contractile organs, in
sentient oi^anized beings, are well supplied with nerves. But
it is doubtful whether the iuvoluutary muscles receive more

otr less than the volu&taryi in proportion to the quantity o^
their muscalar fibres, and the force with wliich they contract*
Should it be proved that the voluntary receive the most, in
pipportion to their power and quantity of muscular fibres,
\^ might suppose that this arrangement is necessary, because,
not only thepozoer of the voluntary muscles is dependent on
the nervons system, but their stimulus comes from this system
by way of nerves, whereas the stimulus of the involuntary or
hollow muscles, is their contents^

We need not labor to show that the nervous organs, the
braio, spinal cord, &c« from which the nerves proceed, are
secreting organs, m all probability^ and that the nerves con«
duct off whatever they secrete« Nor need we jabor to make
physiologists believe that all natural parts of any magnitude
in the animal economy are of some use. They will not deny
bat that the nerves going to the involuntary muscles, as the
heart and circulating vessels, the stomach and bowels, are of
some use. But as these muscles are not under the control of
the will — as they are not excited to contract by a stimulus
broaght to them by their nerves, their stimulus being their
contents, of what use are the nerves going to these muscles ?

This is what we believe : We believe that the muscular
system, that is, the ipWe muscular system, the voluntary part
as well as the involuntary, is corUimially receiving something
from the nervous system by way of its nerves, as- it is from
the sanguineous system by way of its arteries, which is essen*
tially necessary in making out and in maintaining that organ-,
ization on which their contractility depends* This being the
case, the use of the nerves to the heart, &c« is obvious.

That which the nervous glands secrete, and which the

nerves are pretty much cmitinually conveying to' the muscles^

we call the nervoui fluid ; but shall not at present query

about its nature.

Ji«

We i(^ not snppo^, however, but that when n muscie is
once organized bo as to be contractile, it may remain contrac-
tile for a short time, after its connexion wilb the oervoat
and sanguineous system, one or both is destroyed. There is
nothing strange in this, and we marvel not at all to «ee a voi«
Vittary or involuntary muscle contract, on the application of
a stimulus, even hours afler separation from the body ; and
iIb doing so no more proves that contractility is independent
of the nervous or sanguineous system, than a store of nuts re-'
naintng after the squirrel is dead, proves that it was not ac-
cumulated by the squirrel. Nay, nor so much so : the stote
ef nuts will remain indefinitely, after the squirrel is dead,
though no special pains betaken to preserve it ; but contrac*
tilify will not remain long after the nervous or sanguinemia
system is destroyed, take what pains you can to preserve it«
Nevertheless, whatever interrupts the regular flo# of the
nervous or sanguineous fluids to the muscles, affects^ but not
instantly destroys^ (heir contractility. Hence what are com-
monly called the passions^ may influence the powers and ac*
tions of the involuntary and voluntary muscles, in a way which
we shall presently point out.

I know that Dr. Philip, in his "^ Experimental Inquiry int6
ttie Laws of the Vital Functions," relates an experiment
which he thinks shows that the contractility whirh a niuscle
retains after being separated from the nervous system, is not
owing to the nervous ^^ influence," as he calls it, which Jt re>
ceived prior to the separation. Philip wished to make this
out, for he was writing a book to prove that contractility is
an inherent property of the muscular fibre, and of course not
dependent on the nervous system. But it appears very clear
to us, that the experiment shows no such thing ; indeed, al*
though his principles are quite different from ours, still, be-
lieving our principles correct| we should expect, a priori^ the

I

i

12S

very pbenomeDan which he coneiders as evidence of the cor-
rectness of his principles. Such are the errors we are liable
to fail into by not thinking of a// that relates to anj qiiestioa
coDceming which we judge. >Ve shall soon advert to this
experiment.

As we maintain that the nervous system secretes a fluid
which flows, with the exception of casual interruptions, con-
tinaall) to the muscles^ and assists in making out that organi-
zation oo which their contractility depends, it may he proper
for us to state what parts of the nervous system secrete this
fluid, imd from whatjparts of it the voluntary and involuntary
muscles receive their respective supplies.

The brain^ the spinal marrow, and the ganglions, are the
parts which we suppose secrete the fluid ; and it is from the
two former portions that the voluiitary muscles receive their
portion ; but it is highly probable that some of the fluid re-
ceived by the involuntary muscles i& aecreted by the braia
and spinal marrow, and some of it by the ganglions, or ** little
brainS}'' as they are sometimes called, of the nervous system
of organic life.

Some physiologists are not disposed to admit that these
ganglions secrete any fluid ; but they have quite as much of
the ^andular appearance as the brain or spinal marrow ;
they are well supplied with arterial blood, and. what is a stiU
more important consideration, as we descend the scale of an*
imal beings, we find that the ganglionic system bears a great**
er and greater proportion to the animal nervous system ;^-
indeed, in some organized beings, zoophites, perhaps, thig
system alone is to be found, their being neither brain nor
spinal marrow. Even in the frog tliis system is of so milch
more comparative importance than in man, that one may
live, that is, its heart may continue to beat, for nine hours or
inor« after its brain and spuial marrow are .detitroyed ; but we

T54

presume the heart of a man would not continue to beat nine
minutes after his brain and spinal marrow should be destroy-
ed. These facts, together with many others that might be
adduced, not lo mention the consideration that the ganglions-
must undoubtedly perform some office, have led mc to con*
dude that they secrete a portion of nervous fluid. True,
softie have thought that their oflice is to unite the nervous
fluids coming from the brain and the different parts of the spi-
nal marrow ; but such an object as this might be fulfilled )ust
as well merel}' by a plexus, for aught we can see ; and more
than this, the ganglions give off more nerves than cdme lo
them from the brain and spinal marrow. Indeed, we are not
sure but it would be as correct to say that the spinal marrow
and brain receive nerves from the ganglionsi as to say that
the ganglions receive them from these organs.

Let us now consider, more particularly, the felation which
subsists between the norvoue eystem and the voluntary mus-
cles.

If these muscles are almost continually receiving from the
nervous system a flow of flu«d which is essentially necessary
. in making out and maintaining that organization on which
their power to contract depends, as many facts seem to
show that they do, then we can find no difficulty in admitting
that although their contractility may eventually be destroyed
by dividing their nerves, still this contractility may remain^
for a time, after their connexion with the nervous system is
destroyed. I know of no fact, wkh the exception of one,
which has been supposed to prove that voluntary muscles do
not receive something by way of their nerves which is essen-
tial to their contractility ; this fact is the result of an experi-
ment which was made by Dr. Philip, and which we referred
to a page or twq back.

Immediately after having shown that the contractility of the

1S5

tolimtary muscles may be " exhatrsted,'^ as the common ex-,
presaion is, by slimuli operating upon them by way of their
nerves — stimuli which are applied to the brain or spinal mar-
row, — he relates to as an experiment which he supposes
proves that these muscles do not receive any thing from the
nervous system on which their contractility depends. We
will state the experiment ii) his own words, as well as some
of his remarks relating to it.

'' Experiment 32. All the nerves supplying one of the hin-
der limbs of a frog were divided, so that they became com-
pletely paralytic-* The skin was removed from the muscles
of the leg, and salt sprinkled upon them, which being renew-
ed from time to time, excited contractions in them for twelve
minutes ; at the end of which time they, ivere found no longer
capable of being excited. The corresponding muscles of the
other limb, in which the nerves were entire, and of which
consequently the anindal had a perfect command, were then
hid bare, and fhe salt sprinkled to them in the same manner.
In ten minutes they ceased to contract, and the animal had
lost the command of them. The nerves of this limb were
now divided, as those of the other had been, but the excitabil-
ity [contractility] of the muscles to which the salt had been
applied, was gone : its application excited no contraction in
them. It sometimes happens that while the nerves of the limbs
ore entire^ the voluntary efforts of the animal prevent the con-
tractions usually excited by the application of the salt. * » *

*' It is remarkable, that in thiB experinient, the excitability
of the muscles whose nerves were entire, was soonest exhaust-
ed." .

* Not piralytic because their contractility was destroyed, but
because the frog could not contract them himself — J)t»cau;*e they
c»uld not bci excited by the stimulus of the wiil, aa the «xpres-
lioois. •

136

Now what does Dr. Philip infer from this erperiment?
t^hy, he infers that the contractility of the inascular sjstem,
so far from being dependent on the nervous system, or De^
vous^^ influence,'^ is exhausted by it ; because, thinks he, if
the contractility be dependent on the nervous inflnencei it
ought to hold out longest, under the application of the salt, in
those mu&cles whose nerves were entire ; instead of which it
was in those muscles soonest exhausted. But our reasoning
is this : we say that the nervous fluid and the stimulus of the
will, or the cerebral stimulus, are two things ; that the first
flows more or less continually to the muscles, and assists in
making out that organization on which their contractility de«
pends ; and that the cerebral stimulus may exhaust this con-
tractility by exciting contractions. Consequently the con-
tractility of those muscles whose nerves were entiie, was
soonest exhausted, because they were subjected to the opera-
tion of two stimuli at the same time — the stimulus of the salt
and the cerebral stimulus ; whereas those whose nerves were
divided, were wrought upon only by the stimulus of the salt.

That the muscles whose nerves were entif e, were wrought
upon by the cerebral stimulus, we are led to believe, not oiiiy
from the consideration that an animal would endeavor to
move it9 limb when salt is put upon its bare muscles, but from
Dn Philip^s statement,—^' It sometimes happens that while
the nerves of the limb are entire, the voiuntary efforts of the
animal prevent,^^ &c.

It is said that after a muscle which is separated from the
body, has been excited to contract by a mechanical orcbemi*
cal stimulus, until it can be excited to contract no longer, it
may, after being suffered to rest, be excited again by the san^e
stimulus ; and this fact has been thought.to favor, though not
to prove correct, the opinion that contractility is independent
of the nervous system. But admitting that such is tlie iact,

127

«

it is €|iiite*a0 difficult for the Hallerian to account for it as for
the neurologist^ perliaps more so.*

The neurologist may say that the mascular fibres have a
natural capacity for nervous fluid, which fluid is, in all proba-
bility, the electric fluid, or some modification of it ; and
when, by the operation of stimulants, they are deprived of
that portion for which they have an inherent affinity, if they
cannot be supplied by the nervous systeni, they will attract
it from the air or olher surrounding substances, and thus be-
cooie again contractile* Or be may deny that the muscles
iail to cmitract for wont of nerVoas fluid, and say what the
Hallerian most say, that by frequently repeated applications
of a stimulus, the relation which the particles of the fibres have
a tendency to mainjtain among themselves is destroyed, and
that these particles require some time to arrange themselves in
their former order, so that the fibres may be again contractile*
When water freezes, we suppose that its particles enter into
some new arrangement ', but if you keep stirring the water so
as to give its particles no time to do this, it does not so readi-
ly t>ecome ice* JNothing is more evident than if it were pos*
sible to keep every iiidividual particle of water changing its
relations with other particles, the water must remain liquid,
let it be ever so cold — its particles mast have some time to
arrange themselves so as to form ice.

This last method of accounting for the fact, that after a
muscle, separated from the body, is exhausted, it will, if per*
mitted to rest, become again, in some small degree, contrac-
tile, appeal to me much the most rational. Indeed, 1 an^

* As Haller (who was the greatest physiologist that flourished
about the middle or* the last century.) was the 6r8t who maintained,
with any decree of plausibility, that the power of the nnuscular sys-
tem h independent of the nervous system, those who have since
adopted the same opinion are called Hallerians ; those who main-
tain the opposite opioioa are called Meurolugists.

1S8

Inclined to maintain, that in all cases in whicb a muscle is sari
to become txhausUd^ it does not part with an>' one of its piin-
ciples, oxygen, azote, nervottf^uid, or any other ; but that
by eiei cise that nice oiganizaiioo on which its contractihtj
depends, snifers an alteration— a sort of mechanical altera*
tipn, aft we may aay, among its particles. And we may sup-
pose that iij the living system the lymphatics assist in restor-
ing this nice organization by taking up the misplaced particles,
while other particles are placed where they ought to be^ by
the nutritive capillaries.

Many facts will occur to^ (he phyMlogist in favor of this
opi.iion. We talk about the old worn out matter of the sys-
tf^m ; but suppose a muscle to be well oiiganized — to be very
contraclik, how io the name of common sense can this con-
tractility be destroyed, so long as every individual atom of
matter of which the mut^cle is composed* retains its precise
place and relation with the oih^r alomi. • The thing is im-
possible.

Uovf. (00, when you destroy (we will not say txhausQ the
contractility of the musclc&of a limb, merely by touching the
end of a nerve thnt goes tq these muscles, with a wire-^1 say^
how do you destroy the contractility by such means ? Do you
take any thing from the muscle, or do you communicate any
th*n^ but an notion to it~~do you attract the nervous fluid
from it, or do yon cohvey electricity to it ? I once entertain-
ed such notions, but 1 found that by touching the nerves go-
ing to the muscles of a frog's hinder limbs, with a piece of
gl^ss, long, clean and dry, I excited as strong contractions as
when I touched ihem with my pen-knife or any olher con-
ductor of electricity. Indeed, if the nervous fluid intimately
unite with the other material elements of which the muscular
fibre is organized, as we suppose it does, it is noi frtc^ and

129

«

cannot be taken from it without giving rife to an alteration in'
•ooie ofits physical properties, say its cohesiveness.

Afatter is immortal/ At least, matter ii«Ter' wears out ;-^
there is just as much matter now as there ever was ; and
when we talk aheut the worn-out matter of the system, we
mean the misplaced matter^-mispiaced by exercise — by the
system's own '* wear and tear/' And the office of the ab«
aorbents is to remove the misplaced matter of our organs*
Observe^ no chemical changes can take place among the con*
stituent particles of oi^aos without such particles changing
their places or relations with eath other* Observe, too, the
more you exercise the more are the absorbents quickened|
and the more nourishment do you require*

Are not the ab60i4>ents principally fiiund opening into
those cavities or upon those surfaces* where secreted fluids
are pointed oat, and in those* organs which are liable to suffer
displacement of particles while performing their functions f
Are they not abundant in the contractile part of a muscile t
but jean you find even any in a tendon or a bone ? Certainly,
they are not so plentiful in these last mentioned parts, and
we see why their office is not so much required. Finally,
we may vtsnture to lay it down as a principle, that when the '
contractility of muscles is destroyed by exercise, it is because .
thai nice oiganization on which their contractility depends
sudors a derangement, and not because any one of their ele-
mentary, principles is exhausted or displaced, « more than
another.

We have now been laboring, for a few pages, to remove

what toye appeared to some as objections to the opinion,

that the involuntary muscles receive something from the ner^

voua system, but for which they would not be contractile.

But it may be asked if this opinion is to be considered as es*

tablished wh^n it can be shown that tht^re afe uo facts oppos-

* 17

ISO

od to it f U may be replied, that if this be done, physiologists
will admit the opinion as correct, for they know of many con-
siderations which ere directly in favor of it, as well as nMny
difficulties that attend the opposite opinion. Some of these
considerations we will advance in this place.

When the muscles about o^e side, of the mouth are para-
lytic, the muscles of the opposite side draw the lips towards
the sound side. This paralysis is generally, perhaps always,
caused by some misafTectioo of that part of the nervoua sys-
tem from which, or by which, the palsied muscles receive
their nervous fluid, when they receive it at all. it may he
said that this fact does not prove that these muscles have lost
their contractility, but only their tone. But this would be
saying something which is not proved, nor can it be proved,
but by applying mechanical or chemical stimuli to the pal*
sied muscles, and finding them contractile ; whereas it is ve*
ry difficult for the physiologist to admit that a muscle may
lose its tone, or cohesiveness, and still be contractile. That
the muscles should be found contractile, even in those cases
of apoplexy in which all power of volition is absent, we won-
der not at all. In these cases, volition is lost, not because
the nervous fluid ceases to be secreted, but because the dis-
ease of the brain prevents the cerebral stimulus (be this stim-
ulus a fluid or an action,) from being comrpunicated to the
muscles. No voluntary contraction can take place without
the cerebral stimulus.

Nor do we doubt that in many rases,. even of longstanding,
of paralysis of the muscles which receive nerves from the
spinal marrow,Hhey may be found contractile on the applica-
cation of stimuli : an affection of the brain or even of nerves
may prevent the communication of the cerebral sfimulus,
but not the secretion and flow of the nervous fluid. But in
the case of the paralysis of the muscles of one side of the face.

131

in ivhicb the antagonist muscles of tb6 sound side keep the
mouth constantly drawn .towards this side, we are very confi-
dent that these muscles would be found to possess little or no
«ontr'iOtility.

Another consideration is, that many affections of the ner-
Tous system, among which we may reckon some of the pas-
sions, eritientty weaken or otherwjse a&ct the muscles them*
selves, and not the power by which they are excited. In
cases of death by lightning, the muscles are found to have
lost their contractility. Perhaps this is to be accounted for,
by supposing that the shock of lightning so deranges the ner-
vous system as to destroy at once the nervous secretion ;
whereas, in death from ordinary causes, the nervous sec re-
tionmay goon for a time, after the cessation of the conscie&t
and motive actions of the nervous system.

Again — it is admitted by those who maintain that contrac-*
tility is independent of the nervous system, that the nervous
fluid has an important part to perform in the producticm of
secretf^d fluids. Now can there be any such thing as growth
or nutrition without secretion ? Is it not strictly correct to
say that the nutritive capillaries secrete the materials 6f which
the muscles are formed ? and can we suppose that the ner-
vous influence is essential to the secretion of fluids, and not
to the growth or organization of the solids ? Is not the em-
bryo furnished with nervous influence from the maternal sys-
tern, until it have a nervous system of its own ? Do not the
muscles of a youth's limb cease to grow after the nerves go«
ing to them are destroyed, or perhaps only injured by dis-
ease or accident ? la short, do we not have abundant reasoa
to believe that the nutrition, growth, or organization of a
muscle, is. immediately dependent on the nervous system ?
If this be admitted, it would be a mere play upon words to
say that contractility is not immediately dependent on the

ir \

I3S

nenrons system. Need I repeat that the contntctilitj of a
Diuscle is nothing distinct from the muscle itself although our
language would seem to represent that it is ? For a muscle to
be organized in a certain manner, or to be contractile, or to
possess contractiiily, are all one and the same thing. If you
merely compress an organ, you affect its organization ; and
nothing is more true than that there never is an alteration of
property without an alteration of organization.

It is well known that whatever affects the nervous system
in any great degiee, affects the coniractian of the voluntary
muscles ; but the Hallerians assert that in these cases, the
affection of the nervous system does not produce this efiect
by increasing or diminishing their contra ctilitt/^ but by increas*
ing, diminishing, accelerating, retarding, or in some way or
other affecting the cerebral stimulus ; and they demand of
the neurologists to prove that it is not so.

Now this is not so easily proved, directly and conclusive-
ly, ih the case of the volvniary muscles, as in (hat of (he in-
voluntary. But if it should appear, as I think it will, that
the nerves of the involuntary muscles do not, af any time^ con-
vey an/thin^ (o them which excites them, but are at all times
conveying something to (hem which .serves to reader them
excilahle or contractile ; I say, if this should appear to be the
fact, it will be a very rational inference that the voluntary
muscles, also, receive something from the nervous ^ystem,
which renders them contractile. Hence, I think it will ap-
pear still more evident, before we get through this chapter,
that the contractility of the voluntary muscles is dependent
on the nervous system, than it now does ; although we may
not labor directly in support of this point.

Of the cerebral stimulus. Concerning the nature of what
we have called (he cerehial stimulus, we have thought not a
little. The time was when we supposed it to be of the same

i»'

13S

nature as tte nervous fluid : we supposed that the nervoua
fluid flowing into and uniting with (he particles of the muscu*
lar filire, gives these particles a disposition to approach each
other more cloi^ely than what the attachments of the muscles
will admit of; hut that, when these particles receive an addi*
tional flow of this fluid, reserved in the brain for the purpose
(which reserved portion we denominated the cerebral stimu-
lus,) their disposition to approach each other is so much in-
creased that they do so, notwithstanding the powers they must
overcome in so'doing; — this approaching together of the
particles of the muscular fibres, constituting muscular con-
traction.

We entertained this opinion relative to the cerebral stimu-
lus, while writing the chapter on tlie muscular system, as may
be inferred from a few words there dropped : but although it
appeared to us more plausible th'^n any other notion (hat we
have ever seen advanced relative to voluntary contrr.ction,
still we were not entirely satisfied with it : it naturally gave
rise to many difficult questions* We were therefore led to
reflect more maturely upon the subject, and the (dc^ that
have occurred to us, have brought us to the conclusion, that
the voluntary muscle^ are not excited to contract by any ner-
vous fluid or '* influence," as some call it, brough* to them by
their nerves ; and, consequently, that the term cerebral slim'
ultiSy is no more the name of an agenl than the word sensatiou
or the w6rd motion.

We suppose that when any one contracts his muscles vol-
untarily, an action^ not a fluid — not an agent, proceeds along
the nerves from the biain to thf muscles* We will now ad-
vance some of our reasons for supposing so.

First. Itisjust as conceivable how a con-scient action of the
hrain^ that is, a thought, should excite [he immediately suc-
ceeded b}] a motive action of the brain, and ttfat this action

154

BhouM continue €ik>ng down some n<srvous tract ihto the mus-
cles, and be innmediately followed by a contraction of the
muscles, ad it is bow a conscient action of the brain, or a wit-
iing^ if you please, should 'throw or let off, or cause to be left
otfi,^ portion of fluid which, keeping its right course, goes to
the muscles, and causes them to contract.

Second. We know that by irritating the lower part of the
brain, or the spinal mariow, or the nerves going to certain
muscles, with any hard substance, as a wire or bit of glass,
we excite t^ontractions. We can excite as itiany contractions
by irritating the nerves that go to certain muscles, as we can
by irritating the spinal marrow from which the nerves pro*
ceed* Now what fluid do we throw upon, or cause to be
thrown upon, the mt^scles, in these cabes ? Do you say that
we cause a fluid contained by the brain, the spinal marrow
and the nerves, to move along into the muscles ? 1 say, prove
your assertion, and show us why you cannot excite more con-
tractions in the same muscles, wifen you irritate the brain or
the spinal marrow, than you can merely by irritating the
nerves— the brain and spinal marrow, with all their supposed
9timulu8^ being removed.

Third. If a man apply his ear to the end of a sound stick
of timber, supported from the ground, (it matters little hotr
large or long the stick may be,) while another person very
slightly scratches the other end as with a pin, the man who
applies his ear will instantly hear the scratching. This he
will do, let him apply his ear to what part of the end of the
log he may. Now what are we to suppose in this case ? Can
we do otherwise than admit that a very slight decree of me-
.chanical forc6 gives rise to an action throughout the. whole
stick of timber i It either must excite an action among the
particles that compose the solid matter of the stick, causing
them, of coursti to change their relations, more or less, with

185^

each other ; or it must excite an action of the air which thu
pores of the stick may be supposed to contain. Some ntight
at first think it most probable that the f^:ratching excites ao
action of the air only ; but we have sufficient reason to con«
elude, notwithstanding, that the atoms of matter which com-
pose the stick itself, are put in action.

This fact shows us what an exceedingly slight degree of
mechanical force is required to excite atomic actions through-
out solid bodies ; and it enables us to admit that a certain
chaise in some part of the brain may be followed, as an ef-
fect, bja change or action of some other part, and this again
by a change all along down a nerve into a muscle, and then
be followed by a contraction of the muscle.

It is maintained, and generally, perhaps universally, ad-
mitted by philosophers, that the grosser atoms of the most
dense, hard and compact bodies, do not absolutely touch
each other, but that space, or some very subtile fluid, as ca-
loric or electricity, intervenes. And this opinion appears to
be countenanced by the fact, that in many bodies atomic ac*
tions may be excited without much more mechanical force
being communicated to the body than what would seem ne-
cessary to move one of its separate particles.

It appears that what we call a body of matter, b a little
world of atoms, and that, in many instances, if you commu-
nicate force enough to one or more of these atoms to move
them, these atoms communicate it to others, and so on, some-
thing as bodies act upon bodies. This being the case, we
need not marvel that such slight force is necessary to excite
atomic actions in some bodies.

Now we cannot tell by the appearances of bodies, whether
their atoms be so arranged that they will communicate ac-
tions among themselves or not ? nor indeed do we know but
that an imperceptible atomic action takes place in all bodies

136

when any thing touches them. If Tarts eeem to show that aa
atomic action takf s place in any body, it becomes us to admit
that it does, alttiough we might judge from the appearances
of such bodies, that it would not.

Who would judgo, on looking upon a stick of timber, that
an atomic action may be excited throughout its whole extent,
merely by a very slight scratch of a common dressing pin !
Who would jud^e, on examining the optic nerves and brain,
that an atomic action may be excited in tbem by a few rays
of light falling upon (he retinae ? Who would judge that an
inconceivably slight action of the brain may give rise to an
action all along down the spinal marrow ? Yet such appear
to be the facts. Howeve**, in order that atomic actions may
take place in bodies, it is necessary th^t the atoms be in cer-
tain relations with each other; il they be too far apart or too
near together, these actions will not take place, at least, not
exactly as they otherwise would. If you crack a bell, it will
not sound as before ; divide (lie nerves going to a voluntary
muscle, and the atomic action of the upper portion will not
continue on into the lower portion ; hence the muscle is no
longer under the control of the will. On the other hand, if
you compress a nerve so as to bring its atoms too near to-
gether, you interrupt the atomic actions of the nerve, and in
this way destroy volition. Nevertheless, if 1 mi.«takc not,
there are some pathological facts which seerp to show that
the nervous fluid may pass along a divided nerve, if the divi-
ded ends be in apparent contact.*

* Since writing the above. I have discovered the following pas-
aage in Bostock's Physiology, vol, I, p 202. " Does notthecurious
fnct which has been established in the lale controversy respecting
the effect ot'dividin^ the eichih pair of nerves, that the nervous in-
iBtuente may be transmitted along a divided nerve, even when the
parts are one-fourtk of an inch asunder, afford a direct argument

137

It must be remembered, that when one event tmmecliatffy
follows another, we cannot explain horo or zokv ; for, to ex-
plain the connexion between two events, or to explain whr
one event follows another, is but to point out intervening
eveats, showing in what order these intervening events oc
cur. But when two events occur in immediate succession
there are no intervening events to be pointed out, and we can
only say that the one follows the other, because such is the
law of nature. Supposing the moving body A strike against
the body B, and put B in motion— we cannot explain why A
should put B in motion by striking against it ; but if B move
OD and knock down the body C, and it be asked why the mo-
tion of A is followed by the falling of C, the answer, the ex-
planation, is, because A put B in motion, and B struck C.
Here we see that between the motion of A, which is one
event, and the motion of C, which is another event, there is
an intervening event, the motion of B, to be pointed out ; of
course an explanatory answer to the question, why is the mo-
tion of A followed by the fall of C ? may be given. So if a
certain action o f the brain be imm^rf/flf/e(y succeeded by an-

ag^iiist ihe idea tif this iufluence dep*fi>din« upon the passage of a
subtile fluid p See Quart. Journ. v xi p. 6^b and v. xi. p. 17."

We may remark, that it has noi been slinwn that the cerebral
stimuivs may pass along a divided nerve ; but that ihe'p.>wer of
the stomach to digest— to sec lete a proper gastric flirid— is destroy.
€d by dividing the nerves which g«) lo it, and placing the divided
ends at considerable distance from each other 5 but that if the di-
vided ends are placed not over onefourih of an inch asunder, this
power is not destroyed. We may furthermore remark, thai this
fact IS an argument for, and not again-t the idea, that the nervous
ttffluenre (not the cerebral siimulos,) is a fl.ird instead of an ac-
tjon — .We have good reason to suppose that the nervous influence
or fluid, i« the electric, or some modification of it ; and we know
that the electric fluid will pass along a divided conductor, if the di-
vided ends be oi;e. fourth of an ii cli asunder 5 but as Bostock says,
the solution of continuity of a mrve, " must cert> inl> put an eflec-
tual barrier to the propagation of the vibratory ur oscillatory action,

18

13S

•#ther iicfion of the brain, we cannot explain why ; and if a»
action of the brain be immediaiely followed by an action of a
nerve, aa its effecl, we cannot explain why ; and if a certain
action of a nerve he immediately succeeded bj a contractioQ
of the muscle to which it is distributed, we cannot explain
why. And if any one ask why ? he t^hows at once that ht
does not suppose these actions to follow in immediate suc«
cession, but that there are some intervening events to be
fought after. But if it be asked why a certain action of the
brain is followed by a contraction of a muscle, we can saj
that the action of the brain gi^es rise to an action of a nerve^
and the action of the nerve excites an action of the muscle*
This would be explaining the phenomenon or contraction, aa
Well as the present state of our knowledge enables us to do ;
and it is. pc^rhaps, as complete an explanation as we give to
the question, why is the motion of A succeeded by the (all of

It is true that in cases of muscular contraction, there is, ai
we may say, a generation of force ; but this is owing to the
contractility of the muscle. Were there no such generation
of force, we should have no reason to say a muscle is con*
tractile, nor should we call that a stimuiua, which might /brce
the ends of a muscle nearer to each otb< r, anymore than we
call that a stimulus which may force the ends of a piece of
caoutchouc nearer tc each other.

We do not suppose that nerves vibrate when they commu^
nicate actions from one part to another, any more than we
suppos^e that a stick of timber vibrates when one end is slight*
I) scratched with a pin ; but that the particles or atoms of
the nerves change more or less their relations with eachotti*
er. We prefer calling this action of the atoms an atomic ac«
It'on, to calling it a vibratory atlion^ for we would express no
^oMiftctura Qi the way and oiauncr iu which the atoms a^c^

139

whether thej move to and fro, up and doirni or tarn on theif
own axis*

Fourth. Most of tliose who apparently believe that an agent
pasdea from the brain to the muscles in case of voluntary
contraction, suppose this agent to be the common electric flu«
id, or some modidcation of it. Now it is well known that the
.^lectric and galvanic fluids pass through the most compact
.bodies with quite as much facility as the more porous ; but
i>nly compress a nerve a little, and the muscle to which the
Denre is distributed cannot bo excited by the will. This fact
favors the opinion that it is an action, and not an agent, that
passes from the brain to the muscles when voluntary contrac-
tions are excited ; for this compression is much more likely
to arrest an imperceptible atomic actioi* of the nervous trunk
than to arrest a fluid any thin^ like the electric. And should
the experiment be tried, we doubt not but that it would bo
found that the electric or galvanic fluid will pass a compres*
sed or divided nerve as readily as one that is not divided of
compressed.

Fifth. After the brain and upper part of the spinal marrow

have been removed or do»troyod, you may, by wounding the

muscles of one of the hinder limbs of the animal, excite con«
tractions of the muscles of the other hinder limb, hi thia
case it appears to us much more reasonable to suppose that
you excite an action of the nerves of the muscles which you
wound, and that this action runs along up the nerves into the
spinal marrow, and from thence down the nerves of the other
limb, than it does to suppose that you cause any portion of
fluid to run up the nerves of one limb and down the nervea
of the otlier. It is no uncommon thing for a nervous action
to contini^e up some nervous tract and eicitean action in, or
communicate an action to, some other nervous tract which
may run either up or down* Some ioataucei of what pbysi-

140

cmns call sympathy, are to be accounted for in this way.—
When muscles are contractile, ^11 that seems necessary to
cause them to contract, is a certain action (no matter by what
means excited.) of the nerved that go to them. Thoughts and
sensations are as far from being esstntially necessary to mus-
cular contraction, as a galvanic trough.

his well known that the electric and galvanic fluids are the
best chemical (or perhaps we may as well say mechanical)
agents that we can use for exciting contractions of the volun-
tary muscles. This fact is one that I thought of when I con-
cluded that the cerebral stimulus is a fluid ; but it only proves
that the electric and galvanic fluids are powerful excitants of
that action of the nerves which is excited bv certain conscient
actions of the brain, and by many chemical and mechanical
agents.

Perhaps mechanical and chemical agents may excite con-
tractions by operating directly upon the muscular fibre ; we
can only say we know that they may excite contractions by
operating through the medium of nerves. •

The reader will remember that the! question, whether or no
these agents ever excite contractions by operating directly
upon the muscular fibre, is the onea^out which physiologists
have disputed so much ; supposing all the while, that tliey
Were disputing whether the contractility or power of the
muscular system is independent of the nervous system.

Sixth. We cannot believe that any invisible fluid or *^ in*
flnence^' passes into the very texture of the involuntary mus-
eles« and causes them to contract, when they are excited, as
ifre say, fcy their contents.

The preceding^ are some of the considerations which lead
IDS to conclude that the cerebial stimulub is not a fluid, but aa
action.

Whether the nerves going to the voluntary muscles contain

141

a fluid which does not move along in them, when these mus-
cles are excited to contract ; but which is the immediate seat
of the atomic actions about which we have been speakings
we would not stop to inquire. For, if they do, such fixed
fluid is as much a part of the nerve itfielf, as any other, and
the qaestion no^'more concerns us, than it does whether the
nerves contain any sulphur, azote, oxygen, or any other par«
ticular material* We may remark, however, that there ii
nothing in favor o^ the opinion that the nerves possess any
such fixed fluid, which is the medium by which actions are
transmitted from the brain to the muscles.

If the cerebral stimulus be nothing other than an action of
the nervotis system, we may be asked why we give the action
this name? We answer, it is for convenience sake — :the onlj
reason we have forgiving any thing a name. It is convenient
to have a name to distinguish that which is ihe cause of vol-
untary contractions from those agents or actions which are
causes of involuntary contractions. And as the immediate
and invariable antecedent, or cause of voluntary contractions^
(we do noT say contractions of voluntary muscles^) is a nervoui
action which undoubtedly commences in the brain — perhaps
in that part of it called cerebrum ; and as all physiologists
agree to call every thing a stimulus which excites muscular
contractions, we call the cause of voluntary contractions the
cerebral stimulus.

It must be remembered that we do not say the nervous
system is sensib e because those actions take place in it which
immediately and invariably precede voluntary contractions.
We suppose that two kinds of actions, essentially difierent
from each other, take place in the nervons system — conscient
actions and motive actions ; and that the conscient actions
constitute our sensations and thoughts, whereas the motive
tctiuus, though often excited by the conscient, may occur

f4t

#itlioat any conscioosnesii whatever. These are tte actioDi
'%bich immcdiatel)^ precede voluntary contracttooB.

It is true, a sensation generally attends voluntary cofitrac-
tions, but we consider this a consequence of the contraction^
l^nd not a necessary or invariable antecedent. — We suppose
that the motive actions of the nervous systems give rise to mus-
cular contractions, and as there are sentient nerves in or
about the muscles, the contractions excite conscieat actions
in such sentient nerves. The muscles would contract if
there were no sentient nerves distributed to them.

I would add, in this place, tha( all the spinal nerves have
a double origin, a posterior and anterior root, and that, by di-
<rect experiment, it is proved that the muscles to which these
nerves are sent, are rendered paralytic and insensible respect-
ively, according as the anterior or posterior roots are divided.
Hence it is proved that the voluntary niui$cles receive two
kinds of nervous fibrils, motive and sentient. The motive
serves communicate actions from the brain to the muscles
Hrhich are the immediate and invariable antecedents of vol-
untary contractions. The sentient are those in which con-
#cient actions are excited by impressions upon their oi^anic
extremities.

4

We now proceed to a more particular consideration of the
relation which subsists between the involuntary muscles and
the nervous system.

Our opinion is that, like the voluntary, the involuntary mus-
cles receive a fluid from the nervous system which is one
thing essential to that organization, which is but another word
for their power, or contractility.

The following are some of the principal copsiderations di-
«ctly in favor of ihis opinion^

First. T..e involuntary muscles are well supplied with
Mrvas which must be supposed lo have some oifice to per

14»

fbrm in the or Ancrry operations of the animal machine ; and
it is pretty clear that they do not communicate a stimuluK to
these mascles, for these muscles are not under the control
of the will, but are excited by their contents.

Second. It is probable that the brain, spinal marrow and
ganglions, secrete a fluid which is conducted oflfby the nerves^
but which is not a stimulus, either to the voluntary or invol-
untary muscles.

Third. Affections of the nervous system influence the in*
▼olantary, as well as voluntary muscles, as indicated by ao
alteratioQ of their actions. Every body knows how the ac-
tion of the heart, for instance, is influenced by the passions.

Fourth. By destroying the connection between these mu«»
ties and the nervous system, you destroy, though not instant-
ly, their contractility.

Fifth. Secretion is undoubtedly a function of minute mna-'
cular organs, and this function is destroyed in proportion aa
}oa destroy the connection between their oi^ns and the
nervous glands, or in proportion as you destroy these glandtf
themselves.

Sixth. It is proved that what goes from the nervous system ^
to the ^omach and enables its capillary vessels to secrete the
{astric fluid, is not an action, and as we know it is not a solid
nor a liquid* it most of course be a fluid.

Lastly. We know of no factlopposed to this opinion.

We know, however that physiologists have disputed wheth*
•r nerves, or ner\ous influence, are essentially necessary to
muscular coniractiony thinking afl the time that they were
disputing wliether muscular contractility is indc^pendent of
the nervous system. ^ 1 o such physiologists there are some
has which appear to be opposed to the opinion that the
powerof the muscular system is dependent on the nervoua
system : aad there may be some iacta which will appear, to

f44

some, to be opposed to our opinion oF the relation betweea
the involuntary muscler and the nervous systeo). But —

The fact that muscles remain in some degree contractile,
for some time after separated from the nervous system, does
not militate against our opinion in the least, as we have be-
fore said.* I

• • •

The fact that foetuses have been born with hearts beafingi
but without a brain or spinal marrow, weighs very little in-
deed against u9, until two things be shown : Grst, that such
foetuses have no nervous system of organic life ; second, that
the f(Btus, which is as much a part of the maternal system ai
any other, until separated from it, does not receive a nervous
fluid from this system — Pretty certain it is, notwithstanding
all that has been said to the contrary, that some of the marks
and deformities of foetuses are caused by affections of the
mother^s nervous system ; and this fact is no more inexplica-
ble than the fact that children often resemble their parents,
or the fact that animals propagate their own species instead
of some other species. — By the by, I wonder some of our
profound thinkers have not denied that animals propagate
their species, for the good reason that they cannot explain
the fact !

The fact that the involuntary muscles are not very sensi-
ble, argues nothing against our opinion ; it only shows that
they possess hut few sentient nerves. It is rather in favor of
our opinion, for if they were very sensible, it might, with the
more propriety, be said that the use of their nerves is to ren-
der them sensible.

The fact that the contractile texture is to be found in some
zoophites and some vegetables, in which no traces of a ner-
vous system can be seen, proves nothing, only " that the

♦Seepage 101.

145

great Autnor oi natnre is the lord, and not the slave, of hit
own laws." The question is not, what may 6e, but what is f
the questton is not whether a contractile texture may be or*
ganized without the intervention of a nervous system ; but
whether, in animals (in which, for good and wise purposes,
the several parts are so intimately united that what afiecta
one part afiects another,) this texture is organized and kept
in repair without the intervention of the nervous system.

Dr. Philip, a writer well known to gentlemen of the medi-
cal profession, has performed many experiments on rabbits
and frogs, to deterniine the relation which subsists between
the nervous and muscular systems, and the ultimate conciu*
aion to which he arrives, is, that the power of voluntary and
involuntary muscles is independent of the nervous system ;
but that these muscles may be influenced through, or by, the
nervous system.

Now we know that the voluntary muscles are under the
direct influence of the nervous system ; it is from this system
that they derive their stimulus ; and it is conceirable (though
not probable) that the voluntary muscles may be independ«
ent of the nervous system, as respects their power, and yet be
influenced through this system. But as to the involuntary
muscles, which are excited by their contents, which are not
under the control of the will, and which cannot be excited to
contract by mechanical or chemical agents applied to their
nerves, it is very difficult to admit that they are independent
of the nervous system, and yet influenced throiigh it. It is
what no man will admit, if the facts which led Dr. Philip to
this conclusion can be rationally accounted for upon some
other principle.

Dr. Philip himself appears to have been aware of this diffi*

culty. After relating two sets of experiments, the first of

which he thinks ^* proves that the power of the heart and ves"

19

146

sels ofcircnlation is independent of the bi^in and spinal map-
row ; and the second, ^^ that the action of the heart and ves-
sels ofcircnlation may be influenced by agents apphed either
Co the brain or«pinai marrow,'^ — he rennarks :—

*' If it be said that the results of these experiments imply
a contradiction, that we cannot suppose the power of the
heart and vessels to be w hotly independent of the brain and
spinal marrow, and yet influenced by stimuli applied to them,
the reply is, such are the facts, of the truth of which any one
may easily satisfy himself.

'^ On a closer examination of the phenomena of the ner-
vous system, we shall find other similar DirnuuLTiEs."*

We will endeavor to show how unsatisfactory is the cod*
elusion, that the involuntary muscles are independent of, but
may be influenced through, the nervous system.

First. The power of these muscles being independent of
the nervous system, and their tistuz/, if not their o»/y, stimulus
being aho independent of this system, we would a$»k, how
their actions can be influenced by affections of the nervoui
8} stem ? How, for instance, can fear increase the action of
the heart ? Does it stimulate the heart, extraordinarily, by
exciting an action which thrills along the nerves into the
heart ? Does it cause a portion of nervous fluid to be thrown
upon the heart ? It would appear that Dr. Philip siipposes a
portion of fluid, or ^' influence,^^ as he calls it, is thrown up-
on the heart. But if the nerves which go to the heart are
capable of condurtiug oflfthe nervous fluid, during the exist-
ence of fear, what prevents the fluid from flowing to the heart
at any time ? We presume that Dr. Phdip would not admit
that the nervous fluid is continually flowing to the heart, for,
according to his principles, it can, in ordinary ca«es, have

nothing to do after arriving there.

^■» — — .. . - — ■■ ■ ■ ' -^^i— — — I— ^— — — —

♦ Philip's ♦* Inquiry into the Laws," &.c. p. 92.

»r-

147

Second. It is admitted on all hands, that the proper stim^
ulusofthe heart is the blood; now can we admit that the
heart or any other muscular organ has two natural stimuli, so
different as the blood and nervous fluid apparently arc — stim-
uli, too, which excite only one and the same kind of action ?

Third. If that action constituting fear may throw a por«
tion of nervous fluid upon the heart, why may not that action
which constitutes a willing, do the same. Dr. Philip has at*
tempted to show why the involuntary muscles, areinvolunta*
TY ; but what he says appears to us to amount to no more
than this :— The voluntary muscles are involuntary because
the; are involuntary.

Fourth. According to Philip's conclusion, about which wo
are now speaking, the grand q lestion which weighs so heavily
against the opinion of the independent power of the heart,
does not appear to be satisfactorily answered. Of what use
are the nerves of the heart ? This is the question, and Dr.
Philip finds no use for them except on extraordinary occa-
sions, except during (he existence of the passions. Hit
words are : — ^^The heart is supplied with nerves, and 8ut>-
ject to the influence of the pa$^stons, because, although inde*
pendent of the nervous system it is capable of being iafluea-*
ced throuf^h i(."*

This is the sum and substance of all he has to offer in any
place in answer to the question, of what use are the nerves of ,
the heart ? But is this satisfactory ? The sense of the sen*
teiice in?)y be expressed as follows :

The heart is independent of the nervous system ; but if
subject to the influence of the passions, because tt is supplied
with nerves.

The clause, " it is capable of being influenced through it,"

♦i*iiiljp'« "luquiry/' p. Ji47,

148

i* e. through the nervous sjBtem, may be omitted without anj
injurj to the sense of the sentence ; for if the heart be ^^ sub-
ject to the influence - of the passions,^' it must of course be
^^ capable of being influenced through the nervous system.*'
And we may further add, that the passions are the only in-
stances in which the nerves of the heart perform any func-
tion, according to Dr. Philip.

It is true that the action of the heart may be influenced
by mechanical or chemical strmali applied to the nervous
system ; but no one will pretend that it is a/unefton of the
nerves of the heart, to influence its action, in these cases.

On the whole, Dr. Philip tells us that the heart is influen*
ced by the passions, because it is supplied with nerves ; but
be does not show that the nerves of the heart are of any use
but to subject this organ to the influence of the passions. As
to there being any use in this, so far as we can see, there is
none at all :-*it appears to be one of those incidental circum-
stances which, in many instances, occur under the present
order of nature, and which men call evil.

Furthermore, it is contrary to all reason and anal<^ to
suppose that we have oi^ns which perform no office in the
ordinary operations of our systems — organs, too, which, when
they do perform their supposed functions, bring about nothing
new, but only accelerate or retard accustomed actions, which
are frequently accelerated or retarded by other means. — It
is well known that the action of the heart is increased by ex-
ercise as well as by the passions ; but who would think of as-
cribing the increased action of the heart, in this case, to any
action of the nerves of the heart ? Is it not owing to an in*
creased flow of blood towards the heart, or to some obstruc-
tion (in the lungs) to the free circulation of the blood from
the lungs — one or both ?
Passing strange it must be, that the heart and muscular

149

coat of the intestines are supplied with nerves, ttiat a man
may have a little bit of a palpilation, or a little bit of a diar*
rbcea in case he chance to be frightened !

We have now offered several considerations in favor of the
opinion that the contractility of the involuntary nnuscles is
dependent on the nervous system* We have aho endeavor*
ed to remove what might appear to some as objections to this
opiofon ; and we have shown how ui.satislactory is the con*-
cludion, that (he involuntary muscles are independent of, bat
may be influenced through, the nervous system.

We now proceed to show m what way the action of the heart
a&d other iovoluntar}- muscular organs may be influenced by
the passions ; admitting that the contractility of these organs
is dependent on the nervous sytitem, and that they receive no
STIMULUS by way of their nerves.

We suppose that the nervous glands secrete a fluid which
flows to ail the involuntary muscular organ3 — not excepting
the minutest capillary vessels ; and that the contractility of
these organs depends on this nervous fluid. Hence whatever
interrupts the secretion of the nervous fluid, lowers^ as we may
say, the contractility of thes^e organs. This b<^ing done, the
sttmability of their contents provt.*^ too high for their con**
tractihty ; they are stimulated by such contents to a higher
degree than they can bear without increased action ; (we all
know that a frequent pulse is a sign of weakness) ; the capil-
laries are excited to contract, (and the sum of all their capa*
cities is very great); this contraction of the capillaries forces
the fluids upon the heart, aud thus we have a triple cause for
the increased action of the heart ; first, an increased discrep*
ancy between its contractility and the stimability of the
blood ; second, an increased quantity of blood (its proper
stimulus) forced upon it by the contraction of the capillaries,
which may» with much propriety, be called the heart-b autag-

150

•nipt ; third, obstruclion to the free circulation of the blood}
through the lungs, out of the heart's way, '*&s a body may
say."

But what, it is time to ask, suppresses the secretion of (he
nervous fluid, in the sound state of the •jstem, and thus de-
stroys the proper balance between the contractility of the cir-
culating ^;essels and the stintability of their contents ? We an-
swer, the passions, or at least, some of the passions. Fear,
for instance, is a peculiar, intense, conscient action of (he
brain, which is incompatible, as we may say, with the secre-
tory action of this organ, and as the several parts of the ner-
vous system act in concurrence, fear, by suppressing the se-
cretory action of the brain, suppresses it throughout the
whole nervons system. Hence, in case of fear, the man is
weak, his countenance is pale, his heart flultei-s, and often
much limpid urine is secreted.

Much hmp,id urine is secreted, because the contractility of
the secreting capillaries of the kidnies is brought down to a
due relation with the stimability of such urinary matter* The
countenance is pale, because (he contractility of many of the
capilfaries of the face, which usually admic the red globules
of the blood, is so much reduced, that these globules prove
too stimulating for them — they cause the vessels to contract
upon them, and shut them out.

Anger, on the other haiid, is a peculiar, intense, eonscieot
action of the nervous system, which appears to increase the
nervou« secretion. There is no sense of weakness about a
man in anger ; the contractility of lus capillary vessels is so
riised that m.any of them stand in due relation with the red
blood, which, beCore, circulated only colourless fluids ; hence
the countenance is pushed in anger ; but we presume that
the action of the heart is never increased immediately and «K-
reclly by this passion alone. ^Yet we may find, perhaps, that

151

in most ca^es of anger, the action of the heart is 6omew|;iat
accelerated ; but we may find that in these cases, the action
of the heart was quickened by some cause, previous to the
anger, or that it is increased by exercise during the anger, or,
what is still more probable, we may find that fear, or some
such like passion, accompanies the anger. Men when angry
often think of taking revenge, but iheyfear the consequen-
ces — they ftiar to grapple ; they turn pale and tremble ;
then« undoubtedly, the heart flutters.

In order to pro^e that anger, alone, does, in a direct man-
ner,, accelerate the action of the heart, it must be shown that

>

this unmingled passion excites the heart independent of the
exercise of him in whom the anger occurs. We all know
that a man sitting stilK with a calm circulation, may have
the action of his heart accelerated by some noise, or visible
object, which may excite sudden and intense fear, or fright,
as it is sometimes called ; but I am inclined to think that the
action of the heart is never accelerated by pure anger, under
such circumstances.

But supposing it should be found that the unmingled pas-
sion, anger, may accelerate the action of the heart in as di-
rect a manner as the passion- called fear ; it would not de-
stroy our hypothesis to its lowest foundation. — We say that
the oontractility is increased^ diminifthed, lowered^ &c. but we
use these terms for the want of better. It would be as well,
perhaps, not to spin out our hypothesis any further than to
say — the passions influence the actions of the circulating or-
gans, by destroying the due relation, or proper balance, be-
tween their contractility and the stimabilify of their contents.

This view of the subject reeoncrles many difficulties ; it
shows us bow the heart, the countenance, the secretions, &c.
may t>r influenced by the passions, although the holhiw mus-
cles arc not under the control of the will — although they re-

153

ceive no stimulus by way of the nervoug sysiem. But Philip
has not shown, satisfactorily, how this eaii be — he has oot
even shown, satisfactorily, why the involuntary muscles are
ixi voluntary. He says :-r-

*' We can surely be at no loss to account for the action of
these muscles being involuntary, when we know that they are
all expo<«ed to the constant or constantly renewed action of
stimuli, over which the will has no power. Besides, the ac-
tion of these muscles produces no sensible eiTect. We will
to move a limb, not to excite a muscle. We wish to handle,
for example, and on trial find that we can move our fingers ^
but what act of volition can we perform through the medium
of the heart or blood vessels? If we bad no wish to handle,
the muscles of the fingers of course would never become sub-
je<.i (o the wilU . it deserves to be remarked, that the will in-
fliienceh (he rectum and bladder, the only internal oi^ans
which cai^ assist in accomplishing an end desired/'"^

We hero see thai Dr. Philip gives us twd reasons for the
hollow muscles being involuntary; first, ** they are exposed
to the constant or constantly renewt^d action of stimulij over
which the will has no power.'' Second—*' the action of
thejje must leg produces no sensible eflect." Let us first ex-
amine his first reAiion.

The hollow muscle^ are involuntary, btcause " they are all
exposed to the constant or constantly renewed action of s^tim-
uli,'over which the will has no power." This is as much as
to say : the will has no power over the 5^*mw/i of the hollow
muscles 5 therefore, it has no power over the muscles them-
selves. This being true, we might expect that if a man's
stomach, heart, blood ves^^els, &c. should only be empty at
any time, every thing else remaining the same, he might con-

•Inquiry, p. 1J8.

153

tract them at pleasure ! for — Philip's second reason is a false
statement. It is this : ^' The actk)n of these organs produces
no sensible efTect.^'

We all know that the action of the heart does produce a
'^ sensible eflect," in the common sense of the expression ;
bat it maj be said, that the Doctor would attach some pecu-
liar meaning to the expression. Hence it is necessary to ex-
amine attentively what follows the expression in the place it
is used. On doing this we find, that if the Doctor would at-
tach any peculiar meaning to the expression, " sensible ef-
fect," he would be understood to mean the same by it as by
" an end desired."

But suppose I wish my pulse to beat 130 strokes in a min-
ute, or only 30 strokes in the same length of time, that my phy-
sician may think me a very sick man, requiring his best atten*
tion — would not (his be " an end desired ?" And could I ac-
complish it,' would it not be a " sensible effect ?" as strictly
so as any other?

" We will," says the Doctor, * to move a limb, and not to
excite a muscle." But why this talk ? — If an anatomist
should will to contract his orbicularis oris muscle, instead of
wilhng to pucker hi^ lips, could he not do it ? But in this
case the wish would be ^^ to excite a muscle," and not ^^ to
move a limb."

The Doctor says — " If we had no wish to handle, the mus-
cles of the fingers of course would never become subject to
the will." Does the Doctor mean by this as Anuch as to say,
the make of a man depends upon the wishes he may chance
ti> have after he is made !

Finally, the Doctor's reasons for the heart and bloodves-
sels being involuntary, amount to this : — We can perform no
act of volition, that is, no voluntary act, With the heart or

20

154

blood vessels, because, forsooth, ^' what act of volition can we
perform by the heart or blood vessels ?"

But it may be asked, what reasons zee have to offer for the
involuntary muscles being itWoIuntary •? Two or throe very
rational, yea, very probable, suppositions ma) be offered*

We may suppose that the nerves of these organs do not,
like nerves of the vohintary muscles, have that direct connex-
ion with the sensorium [that part of the brain which thinks,]
which is necessary in order that motive actions may be exci-
ted in them, by conscient action« of this part of the brain*

Second. Anatomists know that the parvagum and ail other
nerves distributed to the hollow muscles, ^^ difTcr from the
other nerves in the disposition of their fibres, which, instead
of being straight and parallel, are irregularly connected to
each other, and twisted together.^^^ Hence it is probable
that they are not in themselves capable of communicating
such actions from the brain to the muscles, as the nerves of
the voluntary muscles are* We know that we cannot cause
the hollow muscles to contract by irritating, by mechanical
or chemical agents, the nerves which go to them*

Third* The organization of the hollow muscles is sufficient-
ly different from that of the voluntary, to account for their not
being excitable by the same means* The voluntar}' muscles
are excited by the cerebral sstimulus ; the heart is excited by
the blood ; and if the cerebral stimulus should be communi-
cated to the heart, and a contraction of the heart should not
follow, we should no more wonder than we should if the vot-
untarjf muscles should contract on having, a few ounces of
blood poufed upon them.

We have now shown in what way we suppose the passions
influence the Actions of the hollow muscular organs, and why

^ Bostock's Physiology, vol. l^p. 169; Boston edit. 1825.

136

these oi^nns cannot be excited by those conscient actions of
the brain which constitute what we call a desire, or willing.
But something more must be said in defence of the opinion,
that the passions influence the action of the heart, &c* in the
way and manner which we have pointed out.

Perhaps, in point of weight, the first seeming objection to
this opinion that may be brought, is the short space of time
that passes l)etween the commencement of the passion and
its apparent influence on the hollow muscles. We hav&
maintained that the nervous influence enters into the organi-
zation of the muscular tibre, and is one of its e<^sential princi-
ples, as much so, as any thing brought to it by the arteries ;
and that the muscular fibre being once organized so as to be
contractile, may, as we know, remain, in some degree, con-
tractile even for hours after separated from the nervous sys-
tem. Now if the ordinary actions of the minute vessels and
other muscular organs, are so dependent on a punctilious sup-
ply of nervous fluid, that these actions are altered when this
supply is withheld for a few moments ; some may wonder
that these organs remain at all contractile, for hours, after
cut offfrom this supply, — We will now endeavor to remove
alt doubts arising from this ^core.

In the first place, a man does not turn pale, and theactioQ
of his heart is not accelerated the instant the passion fear, for
instance, is excited. — Fright is an intense fear, suddenly and
unexpectedly excited. Now 1 know (for 1 have thought to
notice immediately the occasion,) that I am often frigbtenedi
and the fright is all over, without any increased action of the
heart. But it may be said that such persons asi are ealled
nervous, feel a sort of thrilling sensation throughout the sys-
tem the very instant they are frightened, and that many a
•ne experienced this sensation when a horse trips which he is

l56

jiding, and which he has learnt by experience is apt to stum*
ble.

This we grant, but this instant sensation does not prove
that the person instantly turns pale, or that the action of his
heart is instantly accelerated ; nor does it in any degree prove
that in other cases of passion, the action of the hc^art, &;c. is
altered by means of a conscicnt action extending along cer-
tain nervous tracts. Consciousness (by which I mean as much
as any one does by thoughts and sensations,) has nothing to
do with muscular contraction, as its immediate cause or ante-
cedent, — not, indeed, in case of voluntary contraction. That
conscient action of the brain called a willing, is not the imme-
diate antecedent of voluntary contractions ; but this conscient
action excites a motive action of the nervous system, and this
is the immediate antecedent of voluntary contractions. All
this will appear more clearly in the chapter on VoliUo7%.

But after all, it must be admitted that in many cases the ac-
tion of the heart is very soon altered after the commencement
of a passion. And we are now about to offer some consid-
erations tending to reconcile this fact^ with the fact that mus-
cular organs often remain in some degree contractile, even,
for hours after they cannot be supposed to receive any ner-
vous fluid from the brain and spinal marrow.

The reader must remember, that in man the brain bears
a greater proportion to the rest of the nervous system, than
in any other animal ; and that as we descend the scale j)f ani-
mal beit)gs, the braiii becomes, as we may say, of less and less
consequence. In rabbits, and particularly in frogs, so great
a proportion of the nervous fluid, which their hollow muscles
receive, is secreted by the ganglions (as we suppose) that
these muscles will remain contractile much longer after the
brain and spinal marrow are destroyed, than they would in
man after the destruction of the brain and spinal marrow.

157

In the case of frogs. Dr. Philip has shown, that after the
brain and spina] marrow are destroyed, (he capillary vedseis
remain contractile, ^o as to circulr.te their contents, '^ many
minutes f^ and that the heart generally remains contractile
an hour or two* But in man we doubt if the heart or capil-
lary vessels would continue to act one minute after being
treated as the frogs were treated. We presume that if the
brain and spinal marrow of a man were destroyed, his mus*
cular organs would not be found to be contractile so long af-
ter, as they are after death from strangulation, or some other
cause which may not prevent the nervous secretion from go*
ing on, a little, after what we call death. In some instances,
fear so completely suppresses the nervous system, and keeps
it locked up, as it were, for such a length of time, as to de-
stroy life ; in such cases it is found that the muscles have
lost, or quickly lose, all contractile power. Be it remem-
bcredy also, that according to our principles, the passions in-
fluence the action of the heart chiefly through the medium of
the capillary vessels ; and as the contractile texture of these
vessels is exceedingly delicate, we need not wondei that a
momentary increase or momentary suspension of the nervous
secretion, so destroys the proper balance between the con-
tractility of these vessels and the stimability of their contents,
as to cause an alteration of their actions. Finally, when We
consider all the differences between a bull frog and a man,
we need not wonder that in the latter, the passions may, in s^
few seconds of time, infiu6n<:e the capillary vessels, and con-
sequently the heart, m the way we have supposed ; although
^ ft frog^s heart may remain contractile a few hours, and his
capillary vessels " a few minutes,^' after the bram and spinal
marrow are destroved.
1 am aware that Dn Philip has performed certain expert-

15S

mcnts, (he results of which I must show iohe reconcilable
with the principles I have been endeavoring to maintain.

With mallets, knives, wires, and hot pokers, he has crush-
ed, mangled, pierced and singed the brain and spinal marrow
of rabbits and frogs, and has also poured upon them spirits of
wine, laudanum, and infusions of tobacco. And what were
the general results ? Why, the more he injured the nervous
system — the more he slashed it, and the more alcohol he
poured upon it, so much the more he quickened the action of
the heart. Hence the Doctor supposed, that by these means
he stimulated the heart ; whertas, we suppose he deranged
the nervous secrelion-^impaired the contractility of the heart
and blood vessels, and caused the heart to beat morefre-
quently, in much the same way that fear does. Tiie spirits of
wine did not excite the heart in the same wa} that they do
when drunk : in this case, it may excite the nervous secre-
tion somewhat, (perhaps, however, by exciting the circula-
tion,) but it enters nito the blood and raises its stimability
more than it raises the contractility of the heart ; and in this
way gives rise to an increased action of the heart-* When

* Magendie informii us, in iiis " Summary iif Physiology/' p.
S67, that by opfning the thoraric dnrt wht-re it forms a junctioQ
with the left subclavian vein we shall find tluit the ch^le is poured
out rather slowly, and of course the rapidity with which it runs
along the duct is not very great I'his may lead some to think that
spirits, wht^n drunk, do not get into the circulating system sosuon
as we find the action ofihe heart to be arcelerated. On this I have
to remark, that by opening the thoracic duct, as Magendie did,
yoo destroy the influence of the heart's suction on ihe motion of
the chyle ; and again, I would ask if any one has found out bow
qnickly the heart is influenced after drinking spirits, the man re«
maining so still as not to accelerate its action hy exercise ?

We do not deny but that spirits may make an impression upon
the nerves of the stomach, and give rise to a change in one's feel-
ings — perhaps increase the nervous secretion, before they reach the
circulating system ; but we are inclined to think that the actiou o(
(he heart is not accelerated until they enter tlie cirGuIatioa.

I

i6d

the cortractility of a tnan-s heart is reduced by disease, a
spirituous potalion acrelerates its action more than when its
contractility is in a high state, as in health.

When Phihp crushed (he brain with a hammer, he gave
the nervous system such a shock as completely to arrest, for
a time, the nervous secretion. This so reduced the power of
the heart and the contractility of the capillaries, that the ca-
pillaries could not withstand the stimulation of their contents
— thoy were excited into a sort of constrictive spasm, by which
means the blood wassocrouded into the enfeebled heart, (hat
it could not contract so as to free itself of its load ; yet its
disposition to contract was great, that is, the discrepancy be-
tween its contractility and the stimabiiity of its contents, was
great. But presently the shock of the nervous system passes
oflT— the contractility of the heart and capillaries begins to be
restored — the capillaries give more room for the blood — the
heart begins to stni^le ; and finally, for a time, again sup-
ports the circulation, though more feebly than before the
brain was crushed. Now what does Dr. Philip conclude
from this ? He concludes that so far from the power of the
heart being dependent on the nervous svstem. it may, of its
own self, recover its power, " precisely as a muscle of volun-
tary motion will by rest recover its excitability, although all
its nerves are divided.'^ Surely ! this is explaining a mystery,
merely by comparing it with a greater, which greater he no-
where attempts to explain.

Now we do not think the two cases are alike. * It is natu-
ral for a voluntary muscle to contract but a few times in im-
mediate succession ; but it is natural for the heart to contract
once a second or oftener, continually ; the heart is not^a-
tgued^ when it stops after the crushing of the brain; and if
the power of the heart and circulating vessels be in de-

pendent of the nervous system, we wish the Doctor wraM
just show U9 why it ceases to act after crushing the brain.

Dr. Philip found that he did not stop the action of the heart
by removing the brain or spinal marrow, as he did by crush-
ing these organs ; but wAy, he does not explain. — We will at-
tempt it. You cannot remove the brain and spinal marroir
without some loss of blood ; this prevents the heart from be-
ing so completely overloaded that it cannot act. True, Pbiiip
sometimes contrived it, so as to snipoffB, frog's head without
much loss of blood ; but then, he left the spinal marrow and
the ganglions which, with the nerves, form the chief part of
a frog's nervous system ; and in snipping off the head, which.
by the by, contains a pretty good share of the blood of the an-
imal, he did not give the nervous system such a shock, as
when he crushed the brain.

Dr. Philip found that when he mangled the brain but little,
or poured ajcohot upon only a small part of it, he altered the
action of the heart little or none. This /act he does not ex-
plain — he only refers it to a law which he is endeavoring to
establish ; but we suppose it is because he did not destroy
the nervou« secretion to any great degree. He found, also,
that his application to the outer parts of the brain did not
cauBe any contraction of the voluntary muscles ; but that
when he. got down to the loiver part of the brain, ^here the
conscient actions go.on, he did. Why ? Because he then got
down to, and excited motive actions in, that part of the brain
in which the motive actions are excited by the ^^ will," as the
^pression is.

Again — Dr. Philip states that when he took out the back
part of the brain, and afterwards poured alcohol upon the
anterior part; he found the action of the heart as much quick-
ened as if he had left the nervous system entire. Why so?
Why, 1 suspect he did the nei vous system as much injury, and

I

161

deranged the nervous secretion as much, as if he had not ta-
ken out any part of the brain. Should he tell me that the ac-
tion of the heart was not increased until he applied the aico-
hoi, I should begin to think it is prettj queer if you may catch
a frog and fall to mangling it, without exciting an increased
action of the heart, — I should think that frogs are so unlike
men, that experiments made on them will nevergive us much
correct information concerning the economy of human be-
ings.

Another fact which Dr. Philip does not explain, but which,
so far from causing us to wonder, w what our principles would
lead us, a priori^ to expect, is this : A transverse division of
the spinal marrow renders (he voluntary muscles below, par-
alytic, (in one sense of the word,) but does not influence the
powers or actions of the hollow muscles. Need we show
why this is ? Does not the reader sec that the division of the
spinal marrow prevents the communication of the motive ac-
tions of the brain to the muscles below, but that it does not
in the least destroy the nervous secretion, either in the parts
above or below the division ?

Dr. Philip has shown that liquid preparations of opium and
tobacco applied to the nervous system, cause the heart to
beat less frequently. This fact led him to make a statement
which appears to us quite iirational.

On revicwmg the inferences from his experiments, he says,
(p. 234) : " The nervous influence is capable of acting as a
stimulus both to the heart and vessels of circulation.'^ And
in the lines next immediately following^ he says : ^' The. ner-
vous influence is capable of acting as a sedative both to the
heart and vessels of circulation, even to such a degree as to
destroy their power." He then refers us to the experiments
which lead him to this conclusion, and on turning to them we

find them to be the experiments in which the hammer, the

21

162

apium, and the tobacco, suppressed or retarded the action of
the heart.— 1 wonder if the Doctor supposes that hammers
and opium operate on the same principle ! — We do not sup-
pose the nervous influence, directly, either accelerates or re-
tards the action of the heart, but if it did either, it would ap-
pear irrational to suppose it does both.

Now although Dr. Philip has given us no explanation of
the fact, that preparations of opium and tobacco, applied to
the nervous system, cause the heart to beat less frequently ;
still, in ofTering opinions opposed to his, it may be thought
incumbent on us-to explain all things ; therefore, we shall, at
least, attempt to explain this fact. But in confirmation of
what we have said about the detrimental action of alcohol on
the nervous system, and of what wc are about to say concern-
ing the modus operandi of Qpium, £:c. \ we will 6rst quote a
passage from Philip.

^' Mr. Hastings had found, that immersing the hind legs of
a frog in tincture of opium, [laudanum] in less than a minute,
deprives it of sensibility. This does not arise from any ac-
tion of the opium ; a watery solution of opium, we found,
however strong, does not produce the efTect. It is immedi-
ately produced by simple spirit of wine, and arises from the
action of the spirit on the nerves of the part to which it is ap-
plied. *It is remarkable, tligt if simple spirit ofwineis used,
the animal expresses severe pain ; if tincture of opium, very
little."

From this passage we learn that alcohol makes such rack-
ing work with the delicate nervous texture, even when not
applied immediately to it, as to destroy its sensibihty, where-
as opium does not. Knowing this, we may the more readily
admit that alcohol, applied to the nervous glands, may de-
range the nervous secretion, and yet, that liquid preparations

^ •■ »'

1G3

of opium and tobacco xniny promote it, which \s the position
that we shall maintain.

We suppose that opium is a real and powerful promoter,
not of muscular contractions, but of the nervous secretion,
and that when laudanum is applied to a considerable part of
the nervous sj'stem, and the animal gets a little over the shock
of the operation, it moderates the action of the heart as fol-
lows : — It increases the nervous secretion, whereby it raises '
the contractility of the heart and circulating vessels, and this,
so far as it respects the relation between the contractility of
these organs and the stimability of their contents, is equiva-
lent to diminishing «uch stimability. . This speculation being
admitted, we see in what way preparations of opium and to-
bacco, applied to the nervous system, moderate the action of
the heart ; wc see, also, in what way opium, given to living
animals, produces a full, slow pulse. This slow pulse is not,
in fact, a sedative effect of the opium, considered in relation
iO its actien on the nervous system ; but it is a sedative ef-
fect, considered in relation to its influence on the heart, pro-
vided we insist on calling every thing a sedative which mod-
erates the action of this organ.

The real sedative effects of opium do not follow its being
taken into the stomach, until twelve or fourteen hours after —
then the patient begins to feel weak, faint, &c. — then it is that
the nervous system is resting from its high action. True,
opium may raise the contractility of the capillary vessels so
that many of them may admit red blood, which, before, did
not ; hence so much blood may be permitted to rush into the
brain as to produce some impediment to the recurrence and
occurrence of its conscient actions ; so we see, that in this
way opium may induce sleep ; and yet it may be all the time
promoting the nervous eecretion. — Surelyi there is a wide
difference between the modus operandi of opium and ham*

164

imrs upon the nervous system ; although the one may mo^p
erate the action of the heart, and the other destroy it. '

Remarks. — It appears to us that very many writers have en-
tertained an erroneous notioii lelative to the actions ofmuscu
lar organs : it seems as though they have reasoned something
like this : A dead organ acts not at all — a living organ acts
some ; hence the more life, the more action, and the reverse,
the more action, the more life or power. But this kort o*
mathematical reasoning will not hold in the present case, cer-
tainly not as it respects the heart. For a frequent, quick
pulse, we are to look to the sickly and enervated ; for a slow,
full pulse, to the hardy yeomanry. The physician knows
that those causes which appear to be calculated to injure the
nervous secretion, predispose to spasmodic actions ; and he
will find, on reviewing all tl)e facta any way retailed to the
subject, that the following is a universal fact, or law of the an-
imal economy^ if you please to call it such, viz. The lower
the contractility of a muscle (until it get to a very reduced
point,) the less able is it to withstand the action of a stimulus,
or in ofher words, the more is it excited by the same agent*
Keverthelcss, we must make a distinction between a frequent,
quicks and easily excited action of a muscular organ, and a
forcible action ; also, between the disposition of an organ
to act, and its power to act. For instance^ the stimability of
ihe blood remaining the same, you may increase the disposi-
tion ef the heart to act, pretty much in the same ratio you di-
minish its power or contractility.

It is true we sometimes meet with a slow pulse in a debili-
tated subject; but this slowness is not owing to the atonic
state of the circulating organs. It is owing to the reduced
stimability of their contents. This stimability is-brought so
near to a level with the contractility of the organs, that it ex-
cites them but moderately. Give such patient a glass of

165

>Ib, or a little stimulating food, and yoa will quicken his
tse much niore than you would by the same means were
>e welL

I -some diseases the contractility of the circulating organs
is so much reduced, that the capillary vessels cannot, as we
may ^y^ patiently bear the stimulation of their contents ; a
^* ^ of constrictive spasm is excited in them ; they press the
i^upon^ or rather into, the enfeebled heart ; the surface
IS ^ale, and the pulse is slow and struggling. Draw a little
bi .'d and you remove some of the hearths load, enabling it to
act tnore freely ; hence you raise the frequency of the pulse
to the healthy standard* But if yt>n bleed copiously, }oa
take from the nervous system that which is necessary to main-
tain its secretion ; hence you lower the contractility of the
circulating organs to a greater degree than what the disease
has done, and the heart flutters, and may soon cease ta
beat. in such case, nothing will save the patient but

«

ihe prompt administration of such medicines as will promote
and maintain the nervous secretion ; — opium, in regularly re*
peated doses, is perhaps the very best.

When a robust man is takci down with a common inflam-
matory fever, you will find that some cause has raised the
stimability of his fluids, (spirit<^ may do this, or cold may do it
by suppressing the perspiration,) or else that some cause hat
lowered the contractility of his circulating organs, increasing
their disposition to act. Therefore, in «uch patient you End
a frequent and forcible pulse. Bleed him, and give him dilu-
ent drinks, and you bring down the stimability of the fluid to
a proper relation with the contractility of the organs which
contain them ; and thus you moderate the action of the heart.
But bleed him very copiously, and you take away that which
is necessary to support the nervous secretion, and thus you
cause the heart to flutter. Give a little opium, and you pro*

166

mote the nervous secretion, and again calm the action oftbe
heart.

We might (ill pages with patholc^ical evidence in favor of
our opinion of the relation between the nervous and muscular
systems. But we must proceed to recapitulate the more im-
portant principles already advanced ; for it is necessary that
the reader remember them, as they will enable us to explain
the phenomena of the passions, and many other interesting
phenomena ; by doing which we shall remove much of that
mystery which, has hung over the phenomena of man ;
and we shall show immaterialists, that with all their imagina-
ry machinery, they cannot begin with the materialists in ex*
plaining the phenomena of man. — Oh for the time when man*
kind will be no longer deceived by mere verbosity !

Some of the more important principles which we have been
laboring to maintain, in this chapter, are the following :

1. That the contractility of the whole muscular system is
dependent on a nervous fluid.

2. That the immediate antecedent or cause of the contrac-
tions of the voluntary muscles, is zn action of the nervous sys-
tem, which action we, for convenience sake, call the cerebral
stimulus* But so much of this action as takes place in the
brain, we call a motive action, in contradistinction to the con-
scient actions of the brain.

3. That the only stimulus of the hollow muscles, is their
contents.

4. That the passions influence the actions of these organs,
by destroying the proper balance between their contractility
and the stimability of their contents.

5. That by diminishing the contractility of a muscle, you
render it more irriiaUe^ in the good old pathological sense of
the term ; but less powerful — for the peculiar /yoioar of a mus-
ele is nothing other than its contractility.

I(i7

Coneeroing the nature of the neivous fluid, we shall say but
few words. Many arc already acquainted with the evidence
in favor of its being the electric fluid, or some noodification of
it ; those who are not, I must refer to Philip's ^^ Inquiry into
the Laws of the Vital Functions.'-

I will just ofi*er two or three considerations which, with the
evidence alluded to, convince me that the nervous fluid is
the electric fluid, or more probably, (hat peculiar modification
of it called the galvanic. First. There are no elements in
man that do not exist out of the animal system. No man will
have the hardihood to deny this. Now if we had full liberty
to imagine every thing without proving any thing, we could
not imagine any agent by which we could any better explain
certain phenomena connected with muscular action, than we
now can, by supposing the electric fluid to be concerned in
the production of these phe^iomena.

Suppose we adonit for the moment, that the nervous fluid
is something essentially diflcrent from the galvanic, and sup-
pose we give it the name of life ; and if you please, we will
suppose another agent, totally different from any thing we
have any knowledge of, and give it the name of soul, — now I
ask the reader, if there is a single phenomenon of man which
be can any more explain, or any better explain, these things
admitted, than he can without supposing the existence of any
unknown substances. Strange it is that men should think to
explain the known by Ihe unknown, and strange it is, that men
should think they fxplain phenomena, when they only refer
them to some brain-begotten agent.

Second. Chemists can bring many facts in favor of the
opinion that bodies have each a certain capacity for electri-
eity as well as for caloric, and that when they yield any share
of their fixed electricity, they suffer some change, even in
their physical properties ; hence, when substances sufier suck

168

changes as they do, during the processes of digestion, circuh'
lion, &c. we may easily suppose that some of them yield a
portion of their fixed electricity to those curious galvanic
batteries, the nervous glands.

Animal heat undoubtedly arises from a change of capacity
for caloric, which material^; undei'go diihng the changes that
are continually going on in the system. It is more than pro-
bable that the electric or nervous fluid has an important part
to perform in the production of these changes, consequently
in the production of animal heat*

We are now about to treat of the conscient phenomena of
man ; but before the reader proceeds any further, we wish he
would return to, and read, the two first pages of the chapter on
Union, and also the note at page 44.

■00-

CHAPTER XIL

/

On Sensation and Perception.

The five senses have sometimes been called the external
senses, in contradistinction to the internal senses, a class of
beings (not very harmle^sp,) begotten by tl)« well organized
brain of Mr. Locke. We^ however, do not speak of the ex'
ternal senses, but of the senses ; and mean by them, those or-
gans upon whfch impressions immediately operate in exciting
conscient actions of the nervous system. As to the internal
senses, they are none of our machinery.

It must be remembered, that the nerves are the essential
parts of every sense ; no organ is an organ of sense, era sen-
sible organ, unless it po<s!e<«s a sentient nerve.

If we have not, we must now inform the reader, that, by

169
«
physiologists, the two extremities of each nerve or nenrouft

tract, are distinguished by the names cerebral and organic —

the first being connected with the brain, and the other with

the sensible organs.

Now the nerves are of a diiTerent make at their orp^anic
(and undoubtedly at their cerebral) extremities, from what
they are between the brain and their organic extremities ; —
at least, we know it is so with the optic and auditory nerves ;
and not only analogy, but very many phenomena, lead us to
conclude it is so, with all other sentient nerves. Indeed, we
may add, that microscopical observers pretend to tell us that
the nerves of the tongue, skin, Sic* terminate in minute emi-*
nences, which they call nervous papilla.

We have somewhere said, that a sensation is a conscient
action of a nerve and the brain — the action of the brain being
one which is immediately excited by jthe nervous action. —
This definition is concise, and sufficiently correct for the
occasion on which we used it ; but we shall now treat of sen-
sation more fully, and, as soon as we get ready, show more
precisely what it consists in.

Sensations are . generally excited by impressions. By an
impression, we mean any agent acting upon any organ so as
to excite, a conscient action of the nervous system — all parts
concerned, being in a healthy state.

An impression never reaches the brain. It does not pro-
ceed along a nerve any more than a man proceeds along a
cord, when, by touching some part of it, he causes it to vi-
brate throughout its whole length. It is the action which
the impression excites, that proceeds along the nerve ; and
if this action continue on so as to excite an action of the
brain, it cannot be said, strictly, that the brain receives the
impression, nor, indeed, that the impression excites the brain ;

for it is not the immediate antecedent of the cerebral a<;tion»

S3

I

no

But it is the nervous action that excites the cerebral aclron.
Yet, when we do not attempt to speak with precision, we
may speak ofimpressions exciting the brain, of impressions
passing to the biaiu, &c. ; but our meaning will now be un-
derstood.

Between the brain and the nerves there is this important
difference : when a conscient action has been excited one or
more times in the brain, there is produced in it such a
tendency to act after the same manner again, that it may thus
act without the re-application of the impression to the senses
which first excited the action ; but in the nerves this reac-
tion, or action without impression, seld<^m takes place — it
takes place so seldomly, that when it does occur, it is consid-
ered a morbid action. The brain, tbeu, is much more influ-
enced by habit than the nerves.

Now the results of experiments, and the effects of diseases
and accidents, prove conclusivel) that conscient actions of
the brain are not actions of the whole brain, but only of the
lower and central part of it ; the precise part is not fully de-
termined. But that part of the brain winch does take on this
kind of action, we call the sensorium commune. This is that
part of the brain which thinks, that is, acts without impres-
sion. In this part only one conscient aetibn occurs in the
same identical instant. This is admitted on all hands, at
least, it is admitted on all hands, that whatever thinks, thinks
but one thought at a- time.

We now take the liberty to say, that the nerves from all
the senses extend into the brain so as to reach the sensorium
commune. But in saying this, we would not be understood
to nnaintain, that if our means of dissection were more per-
fect, we could trace nervoue cords to the sensorium com-
mune, (though, indeed, this may be the fact.) but we would
have the reader understand, that, for couveoience sake, wc

171

alter a little the common import of the word werre, so as to
include all parts of the nervous system in which a conscient
action may be excited, the sensjorium excepted. Perhaps we
include some part that is commonly considered as a part of
the brain itself, and which we, a^ anatomists, should describe
as such — perhaps we do not. Therefore, as it will he very
convenient, in treatingof the conscient phenomena, to give
the name of nerve to the whole tract of nervous matter pro-
ceeding from a sensible organ to the sensorium, we take the
liberty to do so.

From what we have now said, is is evident that we do not
pretend to determine what is sensoriu'p. and what is nerve,
by any obvious marks of distinction between them. But we
say that the sensorium and the sentient nerves constitute the
only parts of the animal system in which conscient actions
may be excited ; and that the sensorium is the one individual
part which easily acqtiires a habit of acting without impres-
sion, and whkh docs not act two actions at the same time,
any more than one body exists in two places at the same time*
Having premised thus much, we are now ready to state, that
a sensation is a conscient action of the organic and cerebral
extremities of a nerve — let the action commence in which
extremity it may. But in thus stating what constitutes a sen-
sation,^ we do not say but that if a conscient action be excited
in the trunk of a nerve and in its cerebral extremity, we should
have a sensation. — Every one knows that a blow on a certaia
part of the elbow joint, may excite a Conscient action in the
trunk of the ulnar nerve, constituting (with the action in the
head) a peculiar pain.

In ordinary cases, however, sensationf are excited by im-
pressions upon the organic extremities of nerves ; and when
the action excited by the impression coAtinites on, not only
to, but into^ the sensorium, then we have a perception*

172

This, then, is onr meaning of the word perception. It is
sonnething more than a sensation or a thought.

A sensation is a conscient action of the two extremities of
a nerve; b perception is a conscient action of the two extrem-
ities of a nerve and the sensorium ; a thought, or idea, is this
same action of the sensonum alone.

Suppose a clock to be in a room where a man is playing at
cbess — the clock strikes and excites a conscient action of the
man's auditory nerves. This much constitutes a sensation.
Now if the Qensorium have such a strong disposition to think
about the game, that the action of the auditory nerves does
not, in the least, change the actions going on in it, then, of
course, the man keeps thinking right on, just as he would if
the clock had not struck, and the striking of the clock excites
in him, not a perception, but a sensation. Ask him if he heard
the clock strike, and he will tell you no. But why does not
the man remember, as the expression is, that the clock has
struck ? 'Tis obvious — the clock excited no action in that
part of the brain which reacts without impression — ^no action
of the sensorium.

Nevertheless, I am inclined to think that the cases are ra-
ther rare in which the actions of the scnsoiium continue on,
when an impression is made upon the senses, just as they
would if no such impression had been made. I think it much
more frequently hafppens that the impression excites an action
of the sensorium; but owing to its being, as we may say, so
much engaged about something quite foreign to the impres-
sing agent, the action of the sensorium which the impression
excites, does not call on, call up, excite, or cause to occur,
any other conscient action of the sensorium in any way rela-
ted to it ; and on this account it will not readily occur again,
(without the re-appiication of the impression,) as no thought
•r conscient action of the sensorium readily occurs, or, more

173

properly, recurSf except it have previously occurred in con-
nexion with Sonne other thoughts, in some way or other rela*-
ted to it. Indeed, we shall show, that merely to have recur
any cne action of the sensorium relative to any one thing,
does not constitute a remembering, but merely an individual
thought, notion, idea, or (if the action be one that was origi-
nally excited by way of the optic nerves, it is often called
a) conception.

To remember any thing, is to have more than one conscient
action of the sensorium relative to this thing. — No doubt the
chess-player might have a notion of the striking of a clock,
but this would not constitute a remembering that a certain
clock struck at a certain time.

Some may be led to maintain that there never is such a
thing as a sensation without a perception — such a thing as a
sensation without an act of that which thinks, and which we
pay is the sensorium. For if there be such a thing as a sen-
satioo without perception, then the sensorium is left free to
think about any thing .it has tendencies to ; ai^d if it should
be decided that a man may he the subject of one or more sen-
sations and of thoughts, at the same time — why, such decision
would be a death-blow to modern immaterialism. For it is
admitted on all hands, that one unextended, and consequent-
ly indivisible, thing cannot b^ the subject, or more properly,
the agent, of two acts at the same identical instant. Indeed,
nothing can be more absurd than to assert that it can — I say
assert, for the thing cannot be believed or conceived — it is
inconceivable.

But facts are stubborn things ; and it is sxfact that a man
may have two or more sensations at the same identical in-
stant ; and not only so, but he may have one, two or more
sensations at the same identical instant that he is thinking ot
something, even quite foreign to either of them. A man may

174

sec a candle, (or any olher object,) hear a noise, and have
the toothache at the same identical instant ; or he may see a
candle, hear a story, and think o( the characters and places
mentioned, or of other characters.and places ever sodistant, all
at the same identical instant ; hut he cannot think about the
candle, and the characters mentioned in the story, at the same
identical instant. If the action of the optic nerves excited
by the candle, excite a corresponding action of the sensori-
um, then the man has a perception of the candle; and if this
action of the sensorium call up other actions relative to —
suggest olher thoughts relative to — the candle, as, what afinc
light that candle gives, what mischief might bt done by applying
it to a cask of gunpowder^ &c. &r* then, to use the, at pre-
sent, convenient language of (he schoolmen, the man attendi
to^ or pays attention to, the candle. But so long as the ac-
tions of the sensorium relate to the candle, there is excited in
the man, not perceptions, but only sensations, by him who is
telling the storj*.

To deny that a man may be the subject of two or more sen-
sations, or of sensations and thoughts, at the same time, is to
assert, that when a man hears, he instantly turns blind, his
eyes beiug wide open in broad daylight, and when he sees he
instantly turns deaf, and when he thinks of absent ol>jects,
past events, mathematical problems, &c. he is the subject of
no sensation whatever. — What an easy matter to cure the
gout, according to such a doctrine !

A man cannot think away the pain of the gout, though he
may think of something quite foreign to it, duiing its continu-
ance.s Should it be said, that at the terrible moment when
the cold wrenching iron is about to be applied to a painful
tooth, the pain ceases ; we shall reply : it is not because
there was no pain, absolutely, in the toolh before — becaure
there was, before, uo conscieut action except in tilt seusori-

1X5

um ; but becaase fhc intense actions of the sensoriunf), ihe
dreads produce such a change in the system, and of course in
the nerve of the tooth, that the irritating cause which previ-
ously excited a pain in it, cannot now excite this peculiar
conscient action.

Cast your ejes, reader, upon any object that niay be be-
fore you — the rays oflight reflected from tl>e object fall upon
the oi^anic extremity of your optic ntrve, and excite a con-
scient action in this and the cerebral extremity, (this is a 5en^
saiion^) perhaps in your sensorium^ constituting a perception
of the object ; now make a noise with the heel ofyour^hop,
still keeping your eyes upon the object, and observe if you
do not hear the noise without the least alteration of your view
of the object, af the instant you hear it — Now shut your eyes
and make the same noise, observing if it appear any way dif-'
ferent from before. Now stop — keep you i^ eyes shut, and
try to have an idea of the object and of the heel of your shoe,
or try to have, at the same instant, an idea of any two things,
so situated that a man could not see tbpm both at one single
view, and see if it is not impossible.

If you grant these things, I may almost venture to put you
down as a materialist without ceremony. If you tind itdifH-
cult to satisfy yourself that you do not have a distinct idea of
the object and of the heel of your shoe at the same instant, t^till
you wiJI find no difficulty in satisfying yourself that you may-
have two or more distinct sensations at the same time ; and
if you know what the immaterialists hold to, and can see the
force of arguments,! may still put you down as a materialist
convinced, if not a materialist confessed.

You certainly will find it very difficult to deterimne by di-
rect experiment that you cannot have two thoughts (different
thoughts, of course,) at the same instant ; for this very deter-
minings observing^ jioticing^ &c. supposes an action of that

176

which thinks, and when this action occurs, no other act or
thought can occur ; hence this very difficulty is evidence that
jou cannot have but one thought, idea, notion, or conscient
action of the sensoriunn at the same instant. If we could
think what we think, how we think, &c. at the very instant
we thinky then every man^ learned or unlearned, might as ea-
sily tell what goes on in his head when he reasons, imagines,
&c. as he may now satisfy himself that he may have two sen-
sations at a time, or as easily as he can tell how a machine
operates, every part of which is open to his view. But the
very instant a man observes what goes on in his head when he
judges, &c. that very instant does the judging process cease.

We know that two or more sensations, or thoughts and seo-
.sations, existing simultaneously, constitute a *' complex state
of the mindj'^^ according to the late professor Brown ofEdio-
burg, whose speculations concerning the intellectual or con-
scient 'phenomena, are, for the most part, less absurd than
those of any other immaterialist with which we are acquain-
ted.

But this "mind^' of professor Brown, is one single, Uner-
tended, indivisible being, capable of existing in only one state
at the same time, and of course, all our sensations, thoughts,
and '^ emotions,'^ are but so many simple states of the mind.
When I see a candle, my mind is in one state, according to Dr«
Brown, if 1 hear, feel, taste or smell nothing at the time'; so if
I hear, my mind is in another state, whether I see any thing
or not. These two states are essentially different from each
other, as every one will readily ^^vdXii^ provided they occur at
difierent times. Now I ask if they are any the less so, when
they occur simultaneously. On trying the experiment as
above requested, did not the reader find that a seeing and a
hearing are two sensations, as distinctly different from each
other, when they existed simultaneously, as when they exist-

177

ed separatelj ? Sorely he did, unless he be ronstifufed entire*
Ij different rrom myself. Now t ask if this single fact alone
does Dot destroy the very foundation of Brown^s fine spun
speculations ? Would he attennpt to get ^!ong by using the
word complex ? telling us that although a man may see and
hear at the same time, and although Ihese two sensations are
as distinctly different from each other as when thSy occur at
difiereut times, still the man^s mind is Aot in two states, but
in one *^ simple,^' '^ complex^' state !

Suppose that one were to maintain that even an extended
body, as of wax, (which may exist as a sphere at one time, and
as a cube at another,) may exist in such a state as to consti-
tttute both a sphere and a cube at the same time, and yet be
one body — would he expect to render his proposition true, or
to make people believe him, merely by making use of the
word complex ? saying, when it exists as a sphere and a cube
at the same time, it does not exist in two states, but in a com*
plex state ?

If a certain state of the mind constitute a certain hearing —
as by Brown maintained — then such state of the mind and
such hearing are the same thing : the existence of the mind
in such state, is essential to the existence of such hearing:-*
the hearing can never be, except the mind be in such state ;
and the mind cannot be in such state without the hearing ex-
isting. And if a certain state of the mind constitute a certain
seeing, then precisely the same stale of the mind is a/ooy^
and essentially necessary to the existence of the same seeing.
Now, a certain hearing and a certain seeing, either of which
may exist separately, may both exist at the same identical in-
stani. It follows, then, as clearly and as irresistibly as de-
monstration, that this " mind^' consists of parts, and, conse-
quently is extended ; and that when a man hears, a part of

his miad acts or exists in a certain state ; but when he comes

23

_ I

178

to nee as well as hear, another part of his mind isbron^t int*
action ; and when he thinks at the same time he sees and
bears, (and I am as certain I can do this as i am that I exist,)
then three parts of his mind act, or exist in certain statea.-—
Act they must, for a change of state supposes action.

This fact, that a man may think, hear, see, &c. at (he same
instant, is a fact which very well agrees with what we be«
Here to be the truth. But it completely overthrows — ^we
say it dogmatically, for we feel it — this single fact alone com*
pletely overthrows modern immateriaiism.

All that Brown has written does not touch the case — does
not reconcile this fact with his fundamental principles. What
he has written about simple and complex states of the mind,
whep brought over to the side of materialism, can relate only
to the phenomena 6f the sensorium. True, on being asked
what state the mind is in when a man thinks, bears, sees, &ic.
at^ne time, be would undoubtedly say, it is in a complex
state : we cannot conceive what else he could say. But he
generally means (indeed, although we have read his whole
work on the philosophy of the mind, we cannot turn to a pas-
sage which shows that he does not always mean) by a com*
plex state of the mind, a simple state in which the mind woold
not have existed had it not previously existed in certain other
states — a state too, which is seemingly equivalent to these
preceding states ; bearing much the same relation to them
that one body bears to the elements of which it is composed.
See some of his own words.

" The mind, it must be allowed, is absolutely simple in all
its states ; ever^ state or afiection of it must, therefore, be ab-
solutely simple ; but in certain cases in which a feeling is the
resiJt of other feelings preceding it, it is its very nature to ap-
pear to involve the union of those preceding feelings ; and to
distinguish the separate sensations, or thoughts, or emotions,

1T9

of iffrliicb<» on reflection, it thus seems to be comprehensive, is
to perform an intellectual process, which, though not a real
analysis, is an analysis at least relatively to our conception.
It may still, indeed, be said with truth, that the difierent feel-
ings, — the states or afiections of the mind which we term
complex^ — are absolutely simple and indiviMle^ as much as
the feelings or afiections of the mind which we term simple.
Of this there can be no doubt. But the complexity with
^hich alone we are concerned is not absolttU^ but relative, —
a seeming complexity, which is involved in the very feeling of
relation of every sort."* '

From this passage we Jearn that Brown means by a com-
plex state of the mind, a state absolutely simple and indivisi-
ble, but a state which is '^ the result of other preceding feel-
ings." We learn, too, that Brown does not use the word
'^ feeling" exclusively to denote one of the five species of sen*
sation, but uses it to denote any thought, emotion, or affec-
tion.

Now admitting Brown's leading principles to be correct, in
his meaning of the expression cofnplex state of the mindy as
above expressed, he does not comprehend those cases in which
men see, hear, and even think, at the same time : for in
those cases the state of the mind is not indivisible, in any
sense in which we can speak of the divisibility or indivisi*
bility of a state. The state which constitutes the hearing, is
independent of the state which constitutes the seeing, and the
state which constitutes the seeing, is independent of the state
which constitutes the hearing. This is certain, fur these two
sensations noay exist separately. Therefore, when a man
sees and bears at the same instant, his mind is not in an indi'

- ■ ■ I ■ I I ■■ I—— III— — — — — M^p^^^i— ^

*^< Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human Mind/' vol.1 .p.
122.

180

Visible state, or rather, his mind, is not an indivisible thing,
but consists of parts, and is consequently extended.

Should the immaterialists remodel their doctrine, Jiad
send it abroad under an exUTided form, we should tell tbem, if
their mind be extended, it is nothing but so much space, un*
less it possesses some other property ; and if it do possess
some other property, then it i/s a c(nU>ifiation of properties^ u c.
it is matter, yet we should not expect to refute their doc*
trine in this way, but in the way in which we expected to re*
fute immatorialism at the time we commenced this work ;
that is, by giving; a more rational explanation of the phenome*
na of man, without supposing the existence of any mind, than
has ever been given by those who have admitted its exist*
ence ; showing, also, the many insuperable difficulties that
attend the immaterial hypothesis, and calling on its advocates'
to show us one glimpse of evidence in favor of it*

We have said that ordinary sensations consist in aconscient
action of the organic and cerebral extremities of a nerve.
But what, it may be asked, do we mean by an extraordinary
sensation ? We mean bensations which consist, in part, of a
conscient action of a trunk of a nerve. . In ordinary sensa-
tions, there is no conscient action of the trunk of a nerve ;
if there were, when a hot iron is applied to one^s hand, there
would be a feeling excited, not only in the hand, but ail aloug

up the arm.

Now if the nerves distributed to any part, be compressed
or divided any where in their course from such part to the
tensorium, no sensation is caused by impressions made ob
such part. This fact seems to prove, that in case of sensa-
tion, something passes along the nerves from the part upon
which an impression is made to.the head.

Now, what is it that passes along the trunk of a nerve in
fase of sensation ? is it an action, or is it a fluid ? We believe

181

it 18 an action ; and the reader will be very apt to believe so too,
if he believe what we have said concerning the cerebVal stiim
ulus* But is this action of the Bame nature with that which
immediately precedes voluntary contractions, except it runi
towards, instead of from the brain ? and what name shall wt

give it ?

Concerning the first question, we can go so far as to say,
that this action and that which immediately precedes a vol*
untary contraction, agree in one respect, in that of being in*
conscient : further than this, ^ve cannot say.

As to naming it, — since it will be convenient to distinguish
it from the csrebral stimulus^ as also from the consdeni actions
of the nervous system, — we will call it a nervous action*

Should any one be so little acquainted with the nature of
organized beings, as to wonder why a conscient action doet
not always occur in the trunk of a nerve in case ofsensation, '
since it appears that by much force (as a blow on the elbow
joint,) this kind of action may be excited in the trunk of^
nerve, we will do away this wonder.

It must be remembered that the property of an organ is
nothing distinct from the organ itself ; that these properties
are, in fact, mere words of relation. Because a certain part
suffers certain changes under certain circumstances, we say
it has a certain property ; and a? parts differently organized
do not suffer the same changes under the sanrie circumstances,
it becomes necessary for us to say, they possess different pro-
perties* or one common property in different dej^rees, as we
think most proper — most convenient. And as the trunks of
nerves are not organized like their extremities, a stronger
impression is required to excite a conscient action in them,
than in the extiemities; hence we say, the trunks of nerves
possess a lower degree of sensibility than their extremities.
This we prove by the same fact which causes us to say it,—

18ft

the fact, that it require? a stronger impression to excite a con-
scient action in them, than in the extremities*

We will now adduce a fact or two, which seems to show,
that when impressions are made upon the trunks of nefves so
as to excite a conscient action in the part upon which the im-
pression is made, or even so as only to excite a nervous action
in this part, this nervous action extends down the nerve as well
as up. When a strong impression is made upon the trunk of
the ulnar nerve in the elbbw joint, a conscient action is ex-
cited in this part of the nerve, and a nervous action in (he
parts continuous, and as there is excited a peculiar feeling in
the hand and fingers, we suppose the nervous action contin-
ues down the ulnar nerve as well as up, and excites a coo-
icient action in its extremities, these being more sensible
than its larger branches. A disease in the vicinity of a ner-
Tous trunk may excite a nervous, but not a conscient, action in
it. This action may extend down to the extremities of such
nerve, and in these more sensible parts excite a conscient
action. Hence a man having a disease of the hip joint, which
disease is confined to parts nearly or quite insensible, there
shall be no pain, or nearly none, in the hip ; but the disease
making an impression upon the trunks of those nerves which
sre distributed to parts below, there may be a pain in these
lower parts, causing the patient, and possibly the physician,
to believe that the real seat of the disease is in these p^rts.

If I am not mistaken, it has been maintained that in reality
all sensations exist only in the head ; or to express the senti-
ment in our own language, that there is no conscient action
except in the brain. Consequently, when a man has the
gout, or the tooth-ache, there is no pain, absolutely, in the
diseased part: he may think that there is, but His ail a no-
tion ; the pain is absolutely in the head where the soul is, and
this deluded thing refers it to the diseased part* What sort

•f a thing a pain is, that the part (that untxtendedpart ! called
soul,) in which it exists, nnay refer it to a part in which it does
not exist, I do not stop to inquire, but proceed to remark, that
this strange doctrine, which men of commcn sensJ (a term
which passes very smoottilj^ if we do not attempt to define it,)
will never admit, necessarily follows from the doctrine of
mind. Ttie philosopher takes it for granted — for there is no
evidence of it — that there is a soul or mind in man, which
thinks and feels ; this soul he places in the brain ; and then
says, ^^ as nothing can act where it is not, any more than when
it IS not," (which is very true,) all thinking and feeling must
go on in the head*

You need not be surprised if you hear such philosopher say
of a person. ^' he imagines a thousand strange feelings." But
unless the word imagine be used in some other sense than its
Qsual one, such talk is absurd. Unless to imagine a feeling
mean the same as to experience a feeling, the cause of which
is not obvious, then it is as absurd to say a man imagines a
feeling, as to say he feels as though be feels, which can only
mean be feels. If these " strange feelings" may be cured bj
cheerful company, good news, fright, or by any thing which
excites new conscient actions bf the nervous system, it is not
proved that they are not real — it is only proved that they
arise from such causes that they may be cured by such means*
Certainly, there is no such thing as an unreal feeling, any
more than an unreal coughing, or an unreal motion of any
kind. It sometimes happens that a conscient action com-
mences in the sensorium, and extends down certain nervous
tracts, constituting what some call an emotion, and what we
shall call a sensorial passion ; and it may be that some of
those feelings called imaginary, consist of conscient actions
which commence in the sensorium ; consequently, as we
should suppose, may be cured, or for the time removed, by

1

J84

tny thing which mny excite a new train of ideas, a new trail
of sensorial actions.

When we say that every sensation is a real sensation, and
gapposes a conscient actioii of a nerve in which the sensation
(exists, or as some would say, seems to exist, we are aware it
piny be said, that after a person has had a limb amputated, he
often thinks he experiences a sensation in the aniputated
ipart. But we account for (he fact as follows : — A pain in
the left foot, for instance, is a disagreeable sensation, a disa-
greeable conscient action, commencing in the nerves of ihis
foot, and by the intervention of a nervous action, giving rise
to a conscient action of the cerebral extremity of such nerves
^—perhaps of the sensorium ; if so, it becomes a painful per-
ception, or pain perceived. This action of the sensorium
(which, when it occurs without the sensation, constitutes a
thought,) may be tbi lowed by other sensorial actions [other
thoughts] related to it ; and if so, then the person attends to,
6r thinks about the pain of his foot ; and his thoughts may be
such as may be ^pressed by these words : ^^ pain in my left
foot — my left foot — down in my left foot," &c. Now let his
left foot be amputated— aftfrwarda a conscient action com-
mences in the stump, and is immediately succeeded by a ner-
vous action extending up to the brain in the same nervous trad
that formerly conveyed actions from the left foot. Getting
up to the brain, a conscient action of the cerebral extremity
of this tract and of the sens^orium is excited. This action of
the sensorium sug^esti*, or. if you please, is followed by, those
actions [thoughts] which formerly occurred on the sensorium
being excited by an action of the cerebral extremity of this
tract — to wit„ those actions or thoughts which may be ex-
pressed by — " pain in my left foot — left foot — down in mj
left foot," &c. Tiiis we contend is all that constitutes a sen-
sation iu the amputated left foot.

185

We suppose that those who tell of experiencing a sensation
in an amputated part, have frequently and recently experien-
ced a sensation in such part, and thought much about the
part; and after the part is removed, some irritating cause,
operating upon the same nervous tract which before connect-
ed this part with the brain, gives rise to a cooscient action
of the cerebral extremity of this tract, and of the sensorium,
which action of the sensorium is associated with ideas rela-
tive to the removed part ; and (hut all this constitutes what
passes fur a sensation in such removed part. But let the
person consider, for a moment, that he now possesses no such
part, and he will tell you, if honest, that he does not absolviely
experience precisely the same consctousness thai he did before
iht part voai amputated; but that it seems to him, somehow
or other, as though there was a sort of feeling somewhere in
that quarter.

A perception consists in a conscient nation of the organic
and cerebral extremities of a nerve [a sensation] and a corres^
ponding tLCtion of the sensorium* We now proceed to show
what we mean by a corresponding action of the sensorium.
It is that action of the sensorium which immediately succeeda
a conscient action of the cerebral extremity of a nerve — im-
mediately succeeds a sensation — not by virtue of a tendency
of the sensorium to act such action, but as the effect of the
conscient action of the nerve. It is a conscient action of the '
sensorium which, together with the sensation that immediate-
ly excites it, constitutes a perception. It is an action which
is excited in every person's sensorium on the same impres*
lion being made upon his senses, provided the impression ex«
cite a perception, and not merely a sensation. Conscient
actions of the sensorium are contmually taking place when
the person is awake ; and in this state, too, there is perhaps

always an impression operating upon some one of his senseSi

24

186

exciting a flensafion ; which sensation must of course *be im»
mediatelj succeeded by some action of the sensorium ; but if
the action of the sensorium *be one that occurs bj virtue oft>ne
of its tendencies, and pot one that is excited by the sensation
*-Hf)otan artion that corresponds with the sensation — then it
is not a perception that takes place in the man, but a Aenva*
tion and a ihfmghi.

The sensorial actions or thoughts which follow a certain
perceptfon-*^ut neither of which constiluteaany part of a
perception at the time it occurs~mi^y he very different in
different persons. The reason of this is, because di£krent
men possess different sensorial tendencies— as will appear
more clearly hereafter.

1 must be permitted to dwell a little upon the subject of
. perception, even ifM repeat very nearly the same sentimeDts
over and over agam ; for I wish to have the reader think just
as I do concerning it.

There is no such thing as a perfect perception without a
sensation, hut as we use the word perception, there may be a
perception without attention ; this we say is passible in the
nature of things — it is conceivable. But 1 think that when a
man has a perception of any object, he generallyattends to it
more or less.— A thought or an idea is an action of that which
thinks, and which we say is the sensorium. Now, although
an action of the «ensorium that is immediately excited by a
sensation, is not what I call a thought when it i$ thus exdted,
but a part of a perception ; (yet it is a thought when it recurs
without the sens^ation ;) still it may be followed b} other ac^
tions of the sensorium which are related to it, and of course,,
related to the object which excites the perception; and if it
be so, then the person thinks about the object or attends to it.
And to attend to any thing, is the same as to pay attention to
it ; and attention consists in nothing other than attending

187

to or paying aiUntion. The faculty of attention can only
mean tha^ hut for which a man would not attend — would not
attend to his perceptions, or what is the same thing in other
words, would not attend to the objects which excite his per*
ceptions. Now this something but for which a man would
not attend to--'would not think about — an object perceived^
is his sensorial tendencies ; which tendencies are nothing
original in his constitution, but something acquired^ and some-
thing which he never possesses until after he has perceived
**as we shall presently proceed to show*

I am incUned to think that the organic and cerebral ex-^
tremities of the optic and auditory nerves, are so near to each
other* that a cooscient action of the sensorium, together with .
a corresponding action of only the cerebral exttemity of one ■
of these nerves, is a consciousness so nearly like that of a
perfect perception, that one who is not in the habit of attend-
ing to his perceptions might mistake it for a perfect percep-
tion — mistake it, I say, that is, he might talk, act and believe,
just as though it were a perfect perception* For illustration,
a certain man is. before your open eyes — rays of light are re-
fleeted from him, and strike upon the oi^anic extremity of
your optic nerves in such a manner as to excite a certain
conscient action in the oi^nic and cerebral extremities of
your optic nerves, and in your sensorium* This is a perfect
perception of the man* At another time, your brain being
in a morbid state, not only this action of yoor sensorium may
arise, but it may immediately give rise to the action of the .
cerebral extremity of your optic nerves ; which action of the
sensorium and the cerebral extremityof your optic nerves is
a consciousness so nearly like a perfect perception of said
man, that you would say the man or his ghost is before you*
You would say you have something more than a mere idea or
conception of the man* You would believe him to be pre-

18S

fl6Dt until, putting forth your bands, you could not feel him ;
or until something eke should cause you to believe that you
experience a ^^ delusion of the senses.''

The reader is already aware that we use the word sensal-
tion as a sort of generic term, including 6ve species, as seeing,
bearing, feeling, &c. ; which last mentioned species has sev-
eral varieties, as hunger, thirst, &c. Now we have as many
difierect species of perceptions and ideas, as we have of sensa-
tions. We may have perceptions by way of the optic, audi-
tory, olfactory, and gustatory nerves, and by way of the
nerves of/eeling ; which last are very widely distributed, go-
ing not only to the skin, but to many internal parts. And as
that action of the sensorium which, existing together with the
sensation which' immediately excites it, constitutes a part of
a perception, doev, when it occurs independent of such sen-
sation, constituted thought or idea, we see that we have five
sorts of id^as, as well as five sorts of sensations and percep*
tions. But metaphysical writers have generally very Uttle
regarded only one sort of our perceptions and ideas, and these
are our optical ideas and perceptions. In the present work,
most of our observations relative to perceptions and ideas,
will be confined to those which come by way of the eye and
the ear, or, if you please, by way of the optic and auditory
nerves. But as we shall often have occasion to distinguish
these two sorts of perceptions and ideas from each other, we
propose 1o call those which come by way of the optic nerves,
^iical perceptions and ideas, and those which come by way
•f the auditory nerves, audiai perceptions and ideas.

189

CHAPTER XIII.

On Ideas, and Sensorial Tendencies.

m

Excepting sensations and perceptions, all the conscient or
intellectual phenomena of n^an consist in nothing other ti>ai>
in having conscient actions of the sensoriiim, one after anoth-
er. And all these actions are such as have sometime or oth-
er been excited by impressions upon the senses, or sentient
nerves. . When they were first excited, (and at all times
when they are immediately/ re-excited by a sensation, or, if
you please, by an impression upon the senses,) each one con-
stituted an essential part of a perception ; but when any one
of these actions of the sensorium occurs without being imme-
diately excited by a corresponding action of a nerve — when
it does not constitute a part of a perception — then it consti-
tutes what we call a thought, or idea.

But why does^ the sensorium react without the reapplica-
tion of tho impression to the senses, which first excited the
action ? This is a question about an ultimate fact, and of
course admits of no explanation. We know that it is a law of
the animal economy, that when an action has been excited
cue or more times in a nervous or muscular organ, such or-
gan is more or less disposed to act after the same manner
again. It is on this account we say animals are influenced by
habit ; and on this account we might say animals possess the
property othahility^ with the same propriety that we say they
possess sensibiUiy, or any other property which arises from
organization.^

Now there is not, perhaps, in the whole kingdom of organ-
ised beings, any animal, organ, or. part of an organ, which is
niore influenced b^ habit, or in other words, possesses a great*

.190

cr degree of hability, than that part of the humftn brain whici
is called the sensorium. This is so much or so readilj^ in£a
enced by habit, that when a conscient action has been exci
ted in it enc or more times by an impression upoo the senses,
it acquires such a strong disposition or tendency to act aftei
the same manner again, that it does thus act without the re-i
application of the impression to ttie senses, which first exci«,
ted the action*

We now proceed to maintain one of the important pos'h
tions Wid down in the first paragraph of this chapter, which
is, in amount, this : No man ever has an idea which Js ootia

*

the first instance excited by an impression upon one of bis
senses*

Of the truth of this position we are most firmly convinced j
yet, owing to the abstruse nature of the subject, and more es-
pecially to the language which we must use in treating of i^
We shall not be able to convince our readers of its truth with-
out some efibrt on their part. They must remember in what
sense we use certain important words, especially the word
idea, and as they read along, they must frequently ^^ turn their
thoughts inward,^^ as Locke would say, and attempt the diffi-
cult task of determining if what we say be true or false.

We begin by telling the reader, that with the exception of
the ideas of words, (which ideas he never much regarded,)
he never had a quarter so many ideas as he thinks he bas—
we mean real ideas, and not substituted ideas. He may have
ideas — real ideas — of things which have impressed his senses;
and he may call these ideas, ideas of things which he has
never seen, felt, tasted, &c. ; but they are onlv substituted
ideas of such things. If he never saw London, he cannot
have an idea of that place, though he may have read ever so
touch about it« To be sure, he may have what be calls an
idea of London, but his idea of London is only a substitute'

191

•ne. He bas seen a populous citj where houses stand thick,
where glittering spires extend into the air, and where there
are streets thronged > with men, horses, carriages, &c* \ of
this city h^ may have a real idea, and when he reads of Lon*
don, this idea may recur, and he may call it an idea of Loo*
don* But if he should be carried to London while sleeping,
he might be much at a loss in determining what place he is
in ; whereas, if carried to a place of which he may have a
real idea, he would know on waking what place he is in«

Should you tell me, reader, that you have never seen Lon-
doDf but that you have an idea of that place whi ^h is differ-
ent from any idea of any city you have seen* — that what yoa
call your idea of London, is an idea of a larger city than the
largest you have ever seen, I should suspect that you have
never been much in the habit of '^ turning your thoughts in«
ward,^' and that, as like as any way, you have no idea of any
city at the time you say so. Think closely, I trust you will
have the luck to satisfy yourself that you can not have one
distinct, and instantaneous idea of a bigger cluster of build*
iagg than the biggest you have ever seen. But you may have
an idea of one cluster, and then of another to the right o^ left
of it, and then of a third, and so on, and when you get throu^
you may say you have had an idea of a very large city. Yet
we will venture to tell you that you never did have one dis-
tinct, and consequently, instantaneous idea, real or substitut*
ed, of a larger cluster of buildings than you have ever seen at
one single view.

Now if we adntit that you may have ideas of objects which
jou have never seen, you must remember that you do not
have what we call real ideas of such objects, and that by call-
ing a real idea of one thing, an idea of another thing, you do
i)ot increase your store of ideas. You will remember, too,
that the Dumber of ideas which you may have, never can ez-

192 .

ceed as we maintain, €be number of sensorial tenSencies you
possess, which tendencies are all acquired by the exercise of
your senses*

You cannot have an ides, not even a substituted idea, of
a golden mountain* You may talk about such a thing and you
may have an idea of a lai^e hill, for you have seen one ; bat to
have an instantaneous idea of a largt h\ll all over yellow yoa
cannot* I once thought that I could, but I am now satisfied
that my ideal mountain all over yellow is not larger than the lar-
gest yellow, convex or globular body I have ever seen* If you
have any doubts whether you can have an idea of a hill some
miles in circumferance all over yellow, make the attempt, and
then have an idea of a yellow ball a few inches in diameter,
and see how much more distinct and satisfactory is your idea of
the yellow ball than of the yellow mountain, think of the
blossom of a dandelion on the side of a large hill, and extend
if you can, this yellowness all over the mountain, so as to
have one distinct idea or thinking view of all the sides of a
yellow mountain. I trust you will find that you have first an
idea of one part of the mountain, and then of another, and
that you canuot have an idea of a larger yellow surface, than
the largest yellow surface, you have ever seen.

Putting colour aside, I doubt if you can have an idea of all
the sides of a mountain, at the same instant* You may, in-
deed, have an idea of all the sides of an eminence at one in-
stant ; but on second thought, this eminence instead of being
a rough hill, miles over, is about as smooth and about as laiige,
as an upturned potash kettle*

Can a man have an idea of something before him and of
something behind him, at the same instant ? I cajnnot, and
the good reason is, 1 never saw something before me and
something behind me, at the same instant. But although I
cannot have an instantaneous idea of a man before me and a

193

man behind me, yet I can have an idea of a great number of
men standing so that 1 could see them at a single glance ; for
before now I have seen at one glance, many men standing
tbus«

Can a man have any idea of the tilings (not of the words)
honor, glory, pride, industry, soul, belief, troth, sensibility,
the, therefore, yes, and thousands of such like things, if (hingi
they m'<iy be called ? To be sure a man may have what he
calls an idea of honor, for instance, but putting aside the idea
of the name, or word, what is it ? Can he even satisfy him*
self?

For my own part, an optical or audia! perception of the
word honor, is not invariably followed by atiy one idea which
I can call my idea of honor ; but an optical or audial per*
ception of the word cony is geuerally followed by one idcai
which I may in truth call itiy ide^ of the thing row. 1 would
not say my idea of the thing cow, is a four-leged idea, posses-
sing two white horns, and a bag with four teats ; neither
would I say my idea of an extended object is an extended
idea — by the by, no man ever had an idea of extension ; he
may have ideas extended objects, but strictly j^peaking no
idea of extension, — what passes for an idea of space, is a sub-
stituted idea, it is that sensorial action which is excited wheQ
a man lool<8 off into the air. An ideals nothing more nor
less than a conscient action of the sensonum, occurring with-
out the sensation which first excited it, and which may ex-
cite it again, though whenever it be excited by its sensation,
it is not then an idea, but a part of a perception. In the sense
in which 1 use the word idea, I have no idea of honor — my
optical and audial ideas of the word itself excepted. An idea
is one idea, and one idea is one conscient action of the sense-
rium ; it is an action which was originally excited by one

ieotation — by one impresdion. Several sensoiial actions oc-

25

194

. earring together, that is in immediate succession, constitute
what is called an idea of honor; but this is using the word in
Us popular sense, we should say they constitute a notion of
honor.

We would say that a man may have a notion of honor, of
glory, of goodness, of charity, and such like thingless names,
but these notions are composed, as it were, of several ideas or
sensorial actions. Hence different men may have different
notions of honor, glory, charity &c.. So far as 1 can deter*
mine, my notion of honor generally consists of ideas of a man
equipped in the style of our highest military officers, upon an
elegant horse, at the head of a body of armed men. Never-
tfaeleaa those ideas which arise when I see or hear the wor3
honor« and which constitute the notion of honor I then have,
are not always the same, but depend somewhat on the other
words which I see or hear in connexion with the word honor.

A man's idea of an action is but an idea of an agent act-
ing; and the same may be said with respect to his idea of an
event.** An event is nothing other than one or more agents
acting ; and putting aside both the optical and audial idea of
^e fovrd, a man has no other idea of an event than that of
one or more agents acting.

When a man goes to church and hears what his preacher
has to say, let him cease paying attention, and instantly con-
aider what thoughts have been running through his brain -, he
will 6nd that he has had nothing but a chain of real or substi-
tuted (mostly substituted) ideas, of real or supposed entities ;
be will find, that as much as may have been said about heav-
en. Deity, glory, spirit, chanty, &c. &c. he has had no idea
of any thing which he has never witnessed.

Finally, if any man will point out to us any idea which he
can have, and which he supposes he did not acquire, direcihji
by way of his senses, we will engage to show him that such

195

idea is, in fact, nothing other than a number of simple and
real ideas, occurring in close succession,' and is more proper-
ly a sentiment, opinion, or nolion, than an idea ; or else that
it is merely a substituted idea, as is that man's idea of Lon-
don who has never seen that city.

The truth is, as a few material elements combined together
in difierent ways and proportions, constitute the infinite va-
riety of material bodies which we behold; so the few ideas
which a man may have (I do not say has^ for a man never has
but one idea at a time,) by occurring, different numbers in
difierent orders, constitute all his opinions, rememberingSi
judgings, imaginings, &c. And we will just add in this place,
that the succession of one's ideas is not regulated by any
" willing'' principle existing in one's head ; but they occur
according to their relations with each other, and according
to the strength of (heir respective sonftorial tendencies. — Aa
idea is a conscient action of the sensorium, and the stronger
the disposition or tendency of the sensortum to act any actioO|
the more likely is this action to occur.

But if our ideas, after excepting ideas of words, are so very-
few, it may be asked why we have so many words, it being
generally admitted that words are but signs or representatives
of ideas. Perhaps, several reasons might be given, but it
seems to us that the two following are the principal ones :— *
First, because our ideas, what few we have, may occur iu dif-
ferent orders or relations with ench other, constituting difier-
ent sentiments ; second^ liecause we substitute an idea of one
thing for an idea of another thing, perhaps for a third or fourth,
and so on — and thus we have what we call ideas of thousands
of things which we never saw, and which, perhaps, never ex-
isted.

Finally, the brain is a very active organ, and when one is
awake, thoughts are occurring in all €orts of others, and wa

196

cannot lef our fellow beings know what goes on in our heads,
without using more words than what we have ideas, if we ex-
cept our ideas of the words themselves*

AsBocialiim of Ideas. The sensoriumnot only has tenden-
cies to act individual actions, but it is disposed to act, in im-
mediate succession, those actions that are, in some way or
other, related, especially those that are related in respect to
the time in which they have before occurred, or been exci-
ted. If two ideas have occurred in immediate connexion,
they have occurred at the same time, according to the com-
mon manner oi speaking ; and in this respect, if in no other,
they are related.

1^'hen we talk about a man^s thoughts, ideas, or sensorial
Actions being related, wf^ use convenient language ; but lan-
guage that is not so strictly correct as language that might be
ifivented. — Since the een^orium acts but one action at the
tame instant, strictly speaking, these actions, directly and of
thc'mselves, can no more be related, than one thing which
does exist, can he related to a thing which does not exist, or
what is the same thing, no more than a thing which does ex-
ist can be related to nothhg* However, we shall still con-
^ntie to speak of relations between a man^s ideas, and shall
DOW endeavor to show in what respect ideas are related, so
as to run together or associate in families, or trains.

First. They are related in respect to time. When two or
more actions or ideas have occurred in connexion, they have
occurred nearly in the same time; and the sensorium is
more or less disposed to act after the same manner again,
that is, to act these actions in connexion again : it is more
disposed to do this, than it is to act in connexion those actions
which never yet o<!curred in connexion, other things being
equAl. All actions or ideas that have occurred in immediate
•uccessioo are daid to be related, as to time.

',

197

Second. When objects are in any way related, our ideat
of these objects are related. A giant is a Tory large nnan. a
dwarf a very small man : they are both men of uncommon
size ; in this respect they are related. And when a man
sees or thinks of a dwarf, he may soon think of a very large
man ; he may think, how much smaller this man is than some
of the large men we read of.

A man's portrait has some resemblance to the man him-
self; in thib respect they are related ; and a sight or thought
of the portrait is very likely to be followed by an ideft of the
man. Objects of a similar appearance excite similar actions
of the sensorium ; and it is not strange that the Sensoriumi
should act similar actions in connexion, instead of dissimilar,
all other things being equal. The sensorinm has many strong
tendencies to act, and when it is in a good condition to act,
some action or other is continually taking place ; but when
it becomes tired, as the expression is, it ccaises to act, and
becomes recruited by sleep.

Those ideas which are related on account of some relation
between their objects, may be said to be related by way of
their objects ; and we cannot see as there would be any im-
propriety in calling this sort of relation between ideas, objw
five relation.

As some objects are related by way of their names, the
written or spoken name of one object may be followed by an
idea of another object, though this name and this object are
as dissimilar as boots and butter. The word hook may be
sncceeded by an idea not only of the word but of the thing
book*

When a man acquires two or more sensorial tendencies in
the same place^ I do not think these tendencies or their cor-
responding actions are related, barely on account of his hav-
ing acquired them in the same place. To be sure, they may

198

be related, hut it is becauFe they were acquired at the same
time* Or if time intervene — if the man acquire one tcnden-
cv on one day, and remaining in the same place, acquire an-
other tendency on another day, these tendencies are linked
together, as it were, by intervening tendencies, that is, by ten-
dencies acquired between the two days.

Nevertheless, a man may be in a certain place, and there
gee a carriage turn over ; but this carriage is not all he sees ;
he sees something which remains there for years ; and all he
§ees at a single glance, excites but one action of his sensori-
um ; and when the man returns to the place years after, he
may, for aught we know, think of the carriage j not solely be-
cause he saw it at the time he saw the place, but because a
pari of the scene which excited this one action still remains,
and is enough to re-excite, or call up, this one action which
includes, as we may say, an idea of the carriage.

Perhaps it will be said that we have now done as good as to
give up what we have just been contending for, viz. that sen-
sorial tendencies acquired in the same place are none the
more related, barely pn this account ; but we believe that
we have not. The second view of the place does not call
op, immediately and directly, an idea of (he carriage a/one,
but it excites an action, which is much like that excited by
the first view ; the sensorial action excited by the first view
of course recurs, and includes, as we may eay, an idea of the
carriage — in other words, the second sight of the place does
not suggest an idea of the carriage alone, but an idea which in-
cludes an idea of the carriage. This, however, is a nice dis-
tinction between mattere and things, and we have written
this, and the preceding paragraph, chiefly for the purpose of
showing what may be €aid, being all the while pretty posi-
tive that the second view of the place calls up the idea of
the carriage, solely because the man had' previously seen the

Ids

«

place and the carriage at the same time* To enable our read*
ers the better to decide concerning this matter^ we put the
following question :

Suppose a man goes to a certain strange place, and there
acquires a sensorial tendency by seeing a very deformed man i
this tendency he retains, but every other one acquired at the
place soon dies aviray, so that he can have no notion of the
place, the name of the man, nor of any thing which he wit-
nessed at the place, the bare conception of the deformed man
excepted. Now let the man go to the same place again, and
acquire one more tendency, and only one which he retains ;
the man has now two sensorial tendencies acquired at the
same place. But do you think they are any more likely to
become operative together — do you think their corresponding
actions or ideas are any more likely to occur in connexion
on this account ? If you answer no, then you decide that ideas
are none the more related and none the more apt to occur in
connexion, barely because they were excited when the man
was in the same place ; and that if such ideas are disposed to
run together, it is owing to some other cause.

Putting aside all things without the skull, and going into the
sensorium, we shall find but two kinds of relations between itf
tendencies, objective and timaL*

It is true, that two or more tendencies may be equally
strong ; in this respect they agree*^ but they are not on this
account related* A man may have an hundred sensorial ten-
dencies of equal strength ; but if the tenth become operative,
the corresponding action of the eleventh is no more likely to
follow than that of the thirtieth, fortieth, or any other, provi-

* We can oflTer no apology for usiiii^ these two word^,* only that
they appear lo be very convenient. The readier cannot mistake
their meaning. When ideas are related because they have occur*
red toe^ether one or more times, their relation i.H timal ; wheu re-
lated by way of their objects^ their reiatiuR is otjeclivB.

200

ded there be no relation between these hundred tendenciesj
except their being of equ&l stiength.

Suppose all the sensorial tetidencies which a man possesses
were of equal strength, but there is nothing of what we call
relation between them ; then his thoughts would occur pro-
miscuously — the particular thought. A, would just as likelj
be succeeded by the thought L, F, X, or any other thought,
as by the thought B, or any other particular thought. But
when we say sensorial tendencies are not related, merely on
account of their agreeing as to strength, it must not be sup*
posed that the succession of a man's thoughts is no ways influ-
enced by the strength of his tendencies ; for, putting aside
impressions upon the senses, the succession of a man's
thoughts is governed by two things only, and strength of ten-
dencies is one of them : their relations with each other is the
other. — Let us suppose there are three thoughts. A, B, C,
equally related, (related by way of their tendencies.) but that
ttie strength of their respective tendencies is different, that of
A being equal to 2, as we will say ; that of B equal to 3, and
that of C equal to 4. Now if any thing suggest the thought
A| the thought C will immediately follow in preference to the
thought B, because, although no more clonely related to the
thought A than is the thought B, there is a stronger tendency
of the sensorium to think this thought, or to act this action,
than there is to act that action which constitutes the thought B*

If the sensorium were not disposed to think those thoughts
in connection which are in some way or other related, or
rather, if our thoughts were not related (for indeed, we should
not say our thoughts are related only that we find they occur
in some k4nd of order) we should not be intelligent beings, —
we might be sentient, preceptive, and even thinking beings ;
but our thinking would consist in having incongruous thoughts
occur, without any kiud of order. — The seusorium hdviog a

201

few ten<lcncies stronger than the rest, these tendennes, only,
would be continiially giving rise to actions ju«< as it happens*
It is owing to the disposition of the sensorium to act those
actions in connexion, which it has previously acted thus, that
we are enahled to make use of language, or signs* The writ*
ten or spoken word, John^ may excite a notion of a man^ a
certain man h^cause that sensorial action which constitutes
(in part) a perceph'on of the word John, has before been excit-
ed, or has before occurred, in connexion with the sensorial
action which constitutes, in part, a perception of a man, a
certain man. If these two sensorial actions were not dispos-
ed io occur in connexion the seeing or hearing of the word
JoAn, might be immediately succeeded by a notion of a trian-
gle, or of any thing else you may please to mention.

Were it not for this disposition of the sensorium, neither of
those modes of thinking which we call, remembering, judging,
and imagining, would be found in us. We should have no
substituied ideas, llie word London would not call up aa
idea of a cluster of buildings. We should be as much below
beasts in point of intelligence as beasts are now below us^-
When we get through with the intellectual phenomena the
reader will be prepared to agree with us, when we say, it is
probable that so far as the functions of the sensorium alone
are concerned, beasts differ from men in the strength or per-
fection {neiiher word suits us) of Xhth associating principicj
by which ambiguous expression we mean, the disposition or
tendency of the sensorium to think those thoughts in conuex*
ion, which are in any way related.

This disposition of the sensorium is also a sourse of pleasure
as well as of pain to us. We have painful and pleasurable
thoughts, as well as painful and pleasurable sensations ; that
is, we have conscieut actions of the sensorium alone which

we call painful or pleasurable, as the casemajr be, as well aa

36

202

actions or ihe nerves and the sensorium, or of the nerves
alone, which we call pleasurable or painful. Besides these
actions of the sensorium we have many of an intermediate
nature, which we may call neutral, as to pleasure or pain,
since, of themselves they constitute neither the one nor tlic
other. Now if a pleasurable or painful action occur in con*
ncxion with one of these neutral actions, a timal relation is
formed between them, and all that may afterwards be neccs-*
sary, to produce the painful or pleasurable action or thought,
is to excite the neutral action.

Some neutral thoughts may be related both to pleasurable
and painful, or if you please, agreeable and disagreeable
ones ; and when such neutral thoughts are excited or sug-
gested, the agreeable and disagreeable ones may succeed so
interrftingled, as to constitute emotions which, taken as a
whole, one can scarcely call agreeable or disagreeable.

There is a cane which I have often seen or thought of, at
the same time I have seen or thought of my friend, — my friend
is now dead, and when I see or think of the cane sorrowful
thoughts relative to my friend and his death occur. There
is a lady whose company has pleased me much ; and whatev-
er excites a notion of this lady giv^5 rise to agreeable thoughts,
or recollections, 1 care not which you call them, since every
body knows that by giving one thing two names, you do not
make two things of one.

It is ill manners to cause to occur, disagreeable thoughts or
emotions, in any one in company with you ; hence, owing to
the disposition of the sensorium, to think those thoughts in
connexion which are any way related, it is ill manners to men-
tion any thing which has any relation to a subject which any
one present cannot think of but with disagreeable emotions.

A man of thought and civility, in company with a lady who
bas been unfortunate, or with a person whose near relative

203

has been hung for a heinous crime, will never say or do any
things in any way calculated to call up an idea of her misfor-
tune, or any thing calculated to excite an idea of the halter or
even of hemp*

Owing; to this disposition of the brain, also, it may be con-
sidered slanderous for one man to say of another, ^* be ought
to be carried out of town upon (wo chips !^'

A kaow ledge of the sensorial tendencies s^ows the house-
keeper that no woman can be called neat who sets a filthy
mess of matter by the side of any kind of food, even if it be
known that notliiug can be communicated from the filthy
mess to the food ; for whoever sees these two thiags in the
same place, sees them at the same time, and hence acquires a
tendency to think of them at the same time, and it is not agree*
able to think of filthy matter when one is eating.

Jt does not appear very strange to us, that actions of the
sensarium, which are somewhat ahke, (alike, I say, for like
impressions — like objects, to appearance, excite like action?,)
should occur in connexion ; and not at all strange that the
sensorium should be disposed to act in connexion those ac*
tioQS which it has previously acted in connexion ; for thia
fact appears to be much akin to many other facts with which
we.are familiar. Still the fact admits of no explanation. To
refer it to the influence of habit, is not to explain it — to refer
it to a latv of the animal economy, is not to explain it ;-^thi8
law is only an ultimate, inexplicable, and general fact, of
which the fact in question is an instance. And if we call any
thing mysterious, this fact is my;?terious ; it is just asmyateri-
ous, and no more so^ as it is that one body in motion should
put another in motion by striking against it« But what we
would more particularly impress at this time, is this: That
thought which is immediately succeeded by aiiotlier thought,
is as much a cause of the occurrence of this other thought| as

1

304

the motfon of one body is the cause of the motion of another
body against which it strikes.

It is sometimes said that one tlioaght suggests another, is
the occasion of another, &c. ; this is all well enough ; it is
but saying in other word?, that one thought is the cause of
another. A thought is an act of that which thinks, be it what
it may ; it is an event ; — but we have no events without cau-
ses since the Deity organized the universe, and every event
(every thought, of course,) which does occur, must as neces-
sarily occur as an effect must follow its cause* This is a fact
which the immaterialist cannot deny, admitting his fundamen*
tal principles to be true ; unless he first refute the principle,
universally admitted, that there are no events without causes.

The sensorial tendencies are strengthened by intensity, and
by repetition of artions — We believe that actions of the sen-
Borium may be of difTerent degrees of intensity, ad well as the
actions of other agents, and the more intense any action of the
sensorium may be, the stronger tendency does it produce to*
wards its recurrence. As to frequency of action or repeti-
tion of action, every body knows that the more frequently, or
the more times, be thinks any thought, or chain of thoughts,
the more apt is he to think such thoughts again.

The sensorial tendencies ma} be weakened or even de*
stroyed by whatever may impair the healthy condition of the
brain. Diseases, accidents, intemperance, and old age, may
do this, and are said to weaken, impair, or destroy the ^^ me-
moiy.''

But it is not to be forgotten, that there is a wide diderence
between weakening or destroying the sensorial tendencies,
andcAo^tng them. — A man receives an injury of his head;
some piece of bone or some effusion of blood compresses the
brain, (consequently -the sensoriumi) so that the thoughts or
aoascieat actions of the sensorium cannot take place ; the

205

man is in a comatose or sleeping state, and for the time being
he is dead as to all perception or thinking as he ever will be i
but after a time, either by an artificial or natural process,
this pressure is removed, and the brain begms to think again,
and to think the same thoughts too, and the sane chains or
trains of thoughts that it did before the injury. This proves
that the sensorial tendencies wete not destroyed by the inju-
ry, but only choked or counteracted ; — the sensorium was so
compressed that it could not act, though it still possessed its
tendencies to Xict*

In some instances, an injury of the brain is partly but not *
entirely removed. In such cases the man may see, but riot
hear, or may hear and not see ; he may be insane, that is, his
thoughts may occur in odd, unnatural relations, or he may not
be able to think at all until his sensorium have acquired new
tendencies. If we mistake not, there are instances on re-
cord of persons recovering (in part) from diseases and inju-
ries, who could not think a single thought until they had ac-
quired new tendencies by impressions upon the senses, and
yet succeed very well in acquiring a new education* In
such cases we should be pretty positive that all old tenden-
cies were destroyed, were it not for the fact, that old tenden-
cies have been choked by some lurking clog in the brain, for
years, and yet become operative after such clog is removed.

We have somewhere read of a man who learnt two langua-
ges, and being taken sick, he could not, on recovery, recol- »
lect but one of them for several yesgrs ; but at length he be-
gan to have notions of the words of the othenJanguage, and
these notions were succeeded by notions or ideas of the
things which these words represented, or in other words, th^
man began to remember the other language. Now the rea-
son why the man, on recovery, could remember oue language
aud not the other, was undoubtedly this : — The tendencies

i206

Native to the language which he could recollect, were
stronger than the tendencies relative, io the other lauguage ;
and all ihe tendencies of his sensorium were so far choked,
obstructed, or counteracted, (neither word exactly suits,) that
the weaker could not give rise to actions*

A fall, a blow upon the head, or a fright, sometimes removes
the lurkitig clog in one's brain, enabling it to peiform alt its
intellectual functions as before it received any injury.

There are many facts which seem to show that the brain
may suffer a greater degree of injury in what we may call lis
phyncal organization, without destroying its functions, if
such injur}' be produced gradually, than it naay if the same
apparent injury be produced suddenly.

As to olJ age, it is probable that it operates, not so nnuch
by destroying old tendencies as by disenabling the brain for
acquiring new ones ; for those tendencies wh^ch were acquir-
ed in youth, and whtch huve been strengthened by repetition
of action through a long series of jears, may become opera-
tive, when the impressions of yesterday produced such weak
tendencies ; that they will not become operative to-day, on
any occasion whatever, short of the reapplication of the im-
pret^sions, and . then, indeed, it is not the tendencies of the
sensorium that give rise to the sensorial actions, but the im-
pressions which excited these same actions yesterday.

The sensorial tendencies are nothing distinct from that
part of the brain \\ hich we call the sensorium. If the senso-
rium be removed or destroyed, these tendencies go along with
it. When ali«the tendencies produced by witnessing an event
are annihilated, the person can no longer recollect the event.

Now it is generally supposed that all parts of our bodies
undergo changes, the old matter of the system being very
gradually taken up by absorbents, and new matter as gradual-
ly deposited in its stead ; so that in the course of seven, teo,

207

or fifteen years, (no one pretends to state the time exactly,)
the old matter of one's system is all changed for new.

Iftliis supposition be correct, it follows that none of the
particles of matter whrch Qomposed my sensoriutn fifteen
years ago, constitute any part of it at the pres^ent time ; hut I
can remember events which I witnessed more than fiAcen
years ago. Some may think this fact argues against our
principles, but we think not.

We will admit, for the present, that the sensorium under-
goes such changes as to be constituted entirely of new master
as often as once in seven years ; — we shall be under the ne-
cessity of making no irrational suppositions to reconcile the
fact, that an old man may remember the events of his youlh
with our principles. All that is necessary to produce a ten-
dency of the sensorium to act any action, is to have this ac-
tion occur one or more times ; no matter by what means or
in what way it is caused to occur. Now suppose the senso-
rium have a tendency to act a certain action, and now sup-
pose again, that a few of the particles which enter its struc-
ture are removed ; — the tendency to act this action is not de-
stroyed — to say the most, it is only weakened, and the action
may again recur, renewing the strength of the tendency to-
wards its recurrence ; and in this way the tendencies of the
sensorium may be kept good, alOiough the old particles of
which it is organized are gradually changed for others.

The fact that an old man may remember an event of his
youth, argues nothing against our principles, until two things
be established. First, that the sensorium does undergo such
changes as we have admitted^ as often, we will say, as once
in seven years. Second, that during these seven years
(or we will even say three of them,) the old man who remem-
bers an event of his youth, did not think of this event.

But neither of these things can ever be proved, and, in.

2^

208

deed, there is not the least shadow ofevidence in favor of one
of them, and very little in favor of the other* There is no
evidence that, a rnan does not think ofthofte events of bis
youth which he remembers when old, as often as once eve-
ry three years from the period of his youth to that of his
old age.

Not a day passes in which we do not think of hundreds of
events without being able, at ^hU to say that we have or
have not tliought of such events. A man may think of an
event of his youth a thousand times a year, and not be able
to say at the yearns end, that he has thought of it once. He
18 not likely to remember that he hai^ thought of it, unless he
thought of it on some momentous occasion, as for instance,
when one of his old friends and playmates called on him, and
talked over the scenes which they witnessed while young.

As to thchensorium undergoing such changes as are brought
about by the processes of absorption and nutrition, there is no
proof of it.

The reader knows that lymphatic absorbents are found
in most, if not all, parts of the body, except the brain, and
these absorbents are supposed to take up and carry off the old
materials of our organs. Now the chief evidence (if ivi-
dence it may be called) in favour of the brain having lymphat-
ic absorbents, is merely analogical — most parts of the body
possess such absorbents, and it is infered that the brain .does.
But the acutest anatomists of eveiy age that Fias gone before
us, with all their nice ini^tniments and magnifying glasses,
have not been able to discover a single lymphatic vessel o{
the brain ; and as the brain is a large viscus which receivei
8 great proportion of blood, and as its lymphatic absorbents
(if it had any) would probably be collected into considerable
trunks so as to pass out at bou«e of the few outletb of the skull V

S09

this inability to discover any proper absorbents of the bmin,
is very strong evidence that the bmin has no such absorbents.
It is true that the vein$ may, and do absorb liquids from va-
rious parts of the body ; — the veins of the brain may absorb
water from the ventricles. The veins may absorb adventi-
tious fluids applied to a wounded surface, or even to the
sound integuments; at least, we will admit so much; but
there is not a single fact, pa^'^'^logical or experimental, that
tends to show that the veins it^^, down, as it were, and carry
off the solid fabric of our bodies — This is undoubtedly a pe*
Caliar function of the lymphatics. The brain never pines
away during sickness.

•Ofh

CHAPTER XIV.
On Rememberins;*

To have conscient actions of the sensorium recur without
impressions, is to think, and to think is essentially the same
as to remember.

To remember any thing, is to think more than one thought
relative to this thing.

I see a man ; this supposes one action of my sensorium,
(that is, if my seeing is not a mere sensation, but a percep*
tton) ; I think of his name, his home, his father, his occupa-
tion, &c. ; this supposes other actions of my, sensorium.
Sometime after, in a distant land, this man again presents
himself before my eyes, and excites the same single action of
}ny sensorium that was excited when I before saw the man-
excites that action which, if it recur without impression,

thut is, when the man is absent, constitutt^ what the school*

27

V

210

men call ti eonception of the man ; but to have (his action ex-
cited, is not to remember the man. The man says to me.
" my name is Bartletl ;" but if the action excited in my brain
by his pronouncing this word, not the action excited by seeing
the man, do not call up some other action, such as constitutes
a notion of his home, or of his father, or of something else re-
lative to him, it cannot properly be said that I remember the
man. So, on the other hand, if a certain man^s name be ./oAn,
it cannot properly be said that I remember this man^s name,
when I merely have occur that sensorial action which is ex*
cited when I see, or that which is excited wlien I hear, the
word John. This would be but to have an optical or audial
idea of the word ; but to remember this man's name, these
ideas must be connected with others, such as an idea of
ibis man ; of some place in which I have seeabim, &c.

To remember an event which I have mtnessed, I must have
something more thau merely ap idea of an agent actings
merely this would be nothing more than a conception. I
must have an idea of the place in which the event occurred,
and of myself being there. But to remember an event which
I have heard of, it is not necessary that 1 have a notion of mj-
self being at the place where the event is said to have trans-
pired.

] do not think it is essential to the remembcrin;; of a past
event, that I have what is called a '* sense of the past ;^ jet
when one remembers an event which he has witnessed, cer-
tain conscient actions of the sensorium will always occur,
which constitute what we call a sense of the past ; and f»e
shall presently attempt to show what these actions arci or in
other words, by what impressions they are excited.

It is true, that in order to remember the time in which a
particular event took place, one must have something more
than notions of agents acting, and of places. Suppose an

Sll

«vent happened on the 10th of June, 18S4 ; in order to rtr
member this particular time, one must have a notion ofa daj
and of th^ marks or words, IOtr or June, 1824.

As to what constitutes a notion of a duy, (not of the word
day,) so far as I can judge, when J have a notion of the sun in
the east, over my head, in the west, and of going to breakfast,
dinner, &c. I have what I call a notion ofa day. Neverthe-
less, I presume that difierent actions of the sensorium, at dif-
ferent times, constitute what goes for a notion ofa day. — When
I endeavor to determine what^onstitutes my notion ofa day,
putting aside all ideas of the word, 1 6nd that it is something
that comes and goes pretty quirk ; and I am not bure as it is,
in these cases, any more than one action of my sensorium, —
perhaps that action which is excited wlu^n I gD out in the
morning^and take a glance at things around — the arched heav-
ens, the sun in the east, and the terrestrial objects that may
fall within my sphere of vision.

1 generally have a peculiar idea of an afternoon. It is that
action of my scnsorium which has been many times excited,
when I have been in my father's west room, and seen the sun
shining in at the windows. — When 1 undertake to determine
what is my idea of an afternoon, 1 find that this action or idea
always occurs ; and I cannot find that I have any other idea
which can Be more properly called an idea of an afternoon
than this ; therefore i call this my idea of an afternoon. Per-
haps some will determine that theiridea of au afternoon, is an
idea of that part of the arching heavens which extends from
the meridian to the western horizon. But as for our having
any thing but a substituted idea or notion of an afternoon, or
of any thing else that has never excited an action in our
brains, we cannot.

But what constitutes a ^' sense of the past ?'' When a man
remembers an event which he witnessed last fall^ he has a sense

31S

of past; now what constitates this sense? It is rertain ac-
tions ofthesensorium that have been excited since last fall ;
auch, for instance, as constitute notions of a winter or spring.
One's notion of a winter consists of such actions as are exci-
ted by looking at white fields, by seeing cutters run by — by
hearing sleigh-bells, &c.

If a man witness an event and instantly become perfectly
senseless, and remain so, I donU care if you say, ten thousand
years, and then come instantly into the same thinking state in
which he was the instant before he became senseless, he will
tell you that he saw this event, but an instant ago *, he will
have no sense of any time having passed, from the moment
he saw the event, to the moment he tells you so. This will
be admitted, and it is proof that when a man remembers an
event which he has seen and has a sense of past, this sense
consists in having recur at the time, certain sensorial actions
that have occurred between his witnessing the event, and his
remembering it.

Perhaps it may be determined that we have not mention-
ed every thing which must take place in one's head to con-
stitute a remembering a man, a remembering an event, &c«
But if we have said eriough to show that our definition otre*
membering is correct, we care for nothing more. We think
we are advancing new principles, but do not pretend to (oU
low out all the fine-spun speculations that may be connected
with these principles. W<b only aim to convince that we are
right in tlie main.

S13

CHAPTER XV.

On Imagining*

We are too apt to think that every word must have some
peculiar meaning. The word, imagination and the word
imaginings are so incorporated, as we may say, into our lan-
guage that we cannot conveniently do without (hem ; and it
would appear rather presumptuous in any one to say that they
mean nothing. Yet we will venture to say this, with respect
to the word imagination ; and as to the word, imagining, it
will puzzle any one to give it a satisfactory definition. It can
mean nothing more than a mode of thinking which is not tsstn-
iialiy diiierent from any other mode. When a man imagines,
nothing more can take place in his sensorium, than one con-
scient action after another, (it is admitted on all hands that
whatever thinks, thinks hut one thought at a time.) and this
is what takes place when a man thinks, or remembers, or
judges.

^We would have every reader endeavour to determine for

himself, what goes on in his head when he docs that which he

calls imagining. He will probably find that he has nothing

but real or substituted ideas of things, one after another ; bi^t

he may find that a very great proportion of his ideas are sub-<

stituted ; and perhaps we cannot define imagining in a less

objectionable way than by saying it consists in substituting

ideas. But there are objections to this definition, as well as

to every one that we can think of, one. objection is this : —

We often substitute ideas when it would not generally be said

that we imagine. To avoid this, wc must alter the common

meaning of the word, (if any body know what this is.) and

say that whenever a man substitutes au idea of one tiung for

214

an idea of another, he imngines. Let us now see what goe^
on in the sensorium when a man substitutes one idea for
another.

We begin by remarking that every substituted idea is, in
itself, a real idea ; it 19 a real action of the ^ensorium excit-
ed by 90iT\e object, which action constitutes a real idea of this
object, but when this idea occurs in connexion with an idea
of the name of some other object, it becomes a siibstituUd
idea of such other object, and is not a real idea qf such ob*
jecty and }et it is a real idea. I have seen a cluster of build-
ings ; of course I can have a rea/ idea of this cluster of build-
ings ; and if this idea occur when I read of London or when I
think of the name, London^ 1 have a substituted idea of Lon-
don.

When I ^:iy that, Isiihstilute one idea for another, I use
such language as 1 am obliged to — it is the language of a false
philosophy, and iscalculated to deceive. The reader must
know from what has been said, that /. as a 'free agent, do
nothing, — / don't " will" an idea, 7 don't substitute one idea
for another ; but rather, an idea of one thing occurs in me,
in connexion with an idea of the name of another thing; and
this is all that constitutes a substituting of an idea of one thing
for an idea of another thitig — this is all that constitutes an
imagining how this other thing looks. Our metaphysical
vocabulary is full of nonsensical words and expressions. Let
evcrj man " turn his thoughts inward'' and not be deceived.

A man may say that he can imagine a horse standing upon
the top of a house, although he never saw such a sight. Let
us examine this matter.

In the first place we may put aside the word imagine, with-
out any prejudice to the sense oflhe sentence, and say: —
**hecan have an idea of a horse standing upon the top of a
house." Now if this man have any knack at examining his

ideas, he will find that he does not have an idea of a horse,
at the same instant he has an idea of the house* He maj
have one single instantaneous idea of something large at the-
bottom and little at the top, for he has seen many such things,
be has seen houses with chimnies extending out above the
roof, and he has seen several other things upon the top of
bouses ; but he cannot have a realj and of course distinct,
idea of a horse upon the top of a house and such idea of the
bouse at the same time. However it is the easiest thing in
the world, to talk and write about a horse upon the top of
9t house, and while a man is doing this he has time to have
real and distinct ideas of a good many things. But this talk-
ing and writing are something more than what goes on in the
brain, — we are only endeavouring to show what goes on in a
man's sensorium when he is said to imagine* And we do not
hesitate to give it as our opinion, that when a man has what
he calls an idea of a horse upon ihe top of a house, no individ-
ual action of his sensorium occurs, which has not, sometime
ojr other, been excited by an impression upon the senses.

Perhaps some may say that imagining consists in discover-
ing new relations between things ; but by this expression they
can mean nothing more than that (he imagining person thinks
of some relation between things which no one ever thought of
before-^the relation itself is as old as those that were thought
of yeais before. I never thought of any relation between a
homely girl and a blacksmith's leather apron, until somebody
said they both l^eep the sparks oiT. Now he that fir&t thought
this, discovered a new relation, as the expression is, betniceea
a homely girl and a blacksmith's leather apfon — he imagined*
But what took place in his sensorium ? Surely, no new ac-
tion, no new thought ; but old actions in a new ord«r. Thia
is ail. And these actions did not take place in this order, be-
cause the man wilUd them to, (surely no man can ^ill a

216

thotiG^bf until he know what thought to wil^, and by this time
the thought is already present,) but because his sensorial ten-
dencies were such as to give rise to them in this order*

00'

CHAPTER XVI.
On Signs.

By signs, we here mean such motions, marks, noises, and
bodies, as excite in us ideas of something besides themselves.*

This is the best frrtf/" definition of signs that we can give ;
but it may be said, in opposition to this definition, that if, in
any man, at any time, the word dun give rise to an idea of
the thing gun, then, according to this definition, the word dun
is, in this instance, a sign of the thing gun. This we cannot
deny ; but the mark or word dun does not generally excite,
and is not generally intended to excite, the idea of a gun ;
therefore we do not call the word dun, a sign of the thing
gun. Yet the word dun is a sign — it is the sign of a written
or verbal request to a man to pay a debt.

The mo/ions which we had referrence to, above, are, for
the most part, those of a person^s head, lipsi, eye-lids, and su-
perior extremities. The marks, chiefly those which we see
upon paper, whether letters, words, arithmetical figure^ or
hieroglyphicks. Tlie noises, such as one makes when he
talks. And the bodies, carved images or any other bodies
that are u&ed as representatives of something besides them*
leives.

*We sometimes spf>ak of ideas n!> being excited, hut ir is nnt strict-
ly c^rr ct ; senHations and perceptions are excited^ but ideas are
called up or suggested.

917

In treating of signs, we shall chiefly confine our remarks t^
words written or spoken. We scarcely need tell (he readeri.
that by wriiten words we not only mean words made by a
pen, but printed words*

We shall first attempt to show hon or why it is that wordi
excite, or more properly, call up. ideas of things distinct from
themselves, and even absent from him, in whom such ideas
occur. After this we shall show in what way we suppose
words first got into use — in what way Adam and Eve came
by their language*

The reader knows already, that with us a thought, idea, and
a conscient action, or simply an action of the seusorium, are
all synonymous terms or expressions* He knows, too, that
the sensorium is disposed to, or in other words, does think
those thoughts in -connexion, which are in some way or other,
related ; and furthermore, that nothing relates thoughts morc^
closely, than their occuri^ing in connexion, that is, in immen
diate succession*

New if I hear the word, raUle»box,* at the time the thing,
rattle-box, is presented to my view, two actions are excited
in my head, one by hearing the word and one by seeing the
thing ; and as these actions are excited in connexion, noth*
ingmore may afterwards be necessary to call up that senso«
rial action which constitutes an idea of the thing than the noise
or sound, which is made by pronouncing the word. So on
the other hand, nothing more is wanting to call up that audial
action of the sensorium which was excited by this sound, than
a sight of the thing rattle-box. Again : The written word
rattle*box is as much a visible thing or object as the box it-
self, and if this word be pointed out to me, at a time when I

*I shall Yreqtiently use the exprrssion '*hf»ar a word,'* instead of
**hear a word pruuounced/' as it is shorter and more coaveoieoU

^18

bear it pronounced, on opHcal action of my sensorinm is ex*
cited in connexion with an audial, which optical action b dif*
ferent from the one excited when I saw the thing rattle-box;
And it may now be said that mj scnsorium possesses three rat-
tle-box-tendencies, which are very closely related* One ten*
dency is to act that action which constitutes an idea of the
thing rattle-box ; anotlier tendency is to act that action which
constitutes an audial idea of the zoorcf rattle-box; and the third
is a tendency to act that action which constitutes an optical
idea of the word rattle-box — an idea, thought, conception, or
thinking view^ of the marks, rattle-box, as they here stand.

The first tendency is related to the second, and by waif of
the second^ to the third, inasmuch as, by supposition, I never
saw the word rattle-box, until 1 had heard the word and seea
the thing rattle-box.

Now as these three tendencies are related, when either
of them gives rise to its action, the other two may instantly
do the same ; hence an impression which excites^ or a thought
which suggests that sensorial action which constitutes, in the
first case, a part of sl perception^ and in the latter, an idea of
a rattle-box, may cause to occur two other sensorial actions
relative to a rattle-box ; ihe one such as is excited by hearing,
the other, such as is excited by seeing, the word rattle-box*
So on the other hand, whatever may cause to occur, either of
these two sensorial actions, may be followed by an idea of
the thing rattle-box*

From what has now been said, we see that if A be a sign of
B, then 18 B, also a sign of A ; and if B is a sign of C, then
is A an indirect sign of C* The thing ox is a sign of the word
ox, as well as this word, a sign of the thing ox, that is, in the
broad sense of the word sign ; but as the thing ox, is not
generally/ intended to represent the word ox, it is not a sign
of this word, in the restricted sense in which we generally

fllS

%

A$e the word sign* If the thing ox be a sign of a yoke, thed
b the word ox, an indirect sign of a yoke.

Aoy one thing becomes the sign of another, in the broad
iSense of the word, when these two things have often excited
actions of the sensorium« at the same time ; or when these
two things have often been thought of, at the same time.
Heoce it b easy to see and admit, that what is a sign of one
thing to one man may not be a sign of the same thing to ano*^
ther.man.

I may have sometime dug a certain well, in doing which I
vsed a pick-axe, day after day, and tho't of the pick-axe and
the well together, time after time, so that now I cannot seCi
hear of, or think of, a pick-axe without having an idea of this
well.

There is not, perhaps, a man in this country who, if he
were to plough up a tomahawk, would not instantly think of
Indians; but there may be thousands of men in other parts of
the world who would not instantly think of Indians on seeing
a tomahawk. If there be not, it is only because there are no
people who have not thought of a tomahawk and Indians, at
the same time*

The same word may at different times be a sign of different
Ihings, to the same person ; this is owing to its connexion with
• other words, and to several other circumstances, that might
be mentioned. If a man should say to me, '* Do you recollect
that John whom you saw at York ?" I should have an idea of
large, dark complcxioned man; but if he should say, ^^Do
you recollect that John who made your boots V^ I should have
an idea of a short, light complexionedi hlue-eyed fellow.

We scarcely need mention that signs call up sensorial ao-
tions only, and not nervous actions-— thoughts, and not sensa-
tions. If they called up, or re-excited nervous actions, then
the sight or sound of the word Gout^ would produce excruci-

290

4(fng patn in the great toe of him who has bad (he gout i The
reader will be careful that he do Dot here misunderstand us.
When we say that signs do not recall nervous actions ; wbeo
ire say the sight or sound of the word gout does not rc-^xcit«
that nervous action which constitutes the pain of gout, we do
not mean that this sight or sound excites no action of the op*
tic or auditory nervtSy as the case may be. Altho^ a view of
Ihe word ox does n6t excite that action of the optic nerves
which is excited when we see an ox, we do not say it excites
ko action df the optic nerves.

As we much more frequently hear words than see them* we
1>e]ieve that' the optical action of the sensorium which is e]^
cited by seeing a word, and which occurring alone [without a
sensation] constitutes a conception of a word, never occurs
without being immediately succeeded by that audial action of
the sensorium, which is excited when we hear this word spok-
en* Yet when we hear words spoken, as in common dis«
course, we seldom have conceptions of these word8--*seldom
think how they look on paper : the sound of each word excites
its own peculiar action of the auditory nerves (perhaps of the
•ensorium also, constituting a perception) and this action is
followed by an action of the sensorium which constitutes a no*
tioo of some object, and not by an action which constitutes a
conception of such word written on paper. We think that no'
person will find much difficulty in satisfying himself, that (be
Opinions we have here advanced, are true.

He wilt find that when he reads to himself, making no noi^e
with bis lipS| be has audial ideas of the words which he looks
at : he wilf find that when he reads along and comes to the
word JoAn, he docs not experience the same that he does
trhen he hears this word — no, not so ; but he will find
that he experiences the same that he does when be has
what he calls au idea of the v^ce of one whom be has

beard 8peak tbe word J<^n» He will find that what he eYpe%
tieiic^s does not more widely differ from a hearing of Ihc word
John, than his optical idea or conception of John himseif
ditTefia from a seeing of John. He will find, also, (hat (l>c aw
Jia/ actions of tbe sensorium which take place in him whiia
perusing a book, are immediatelf/j and of course very instanta-
Deously aoccceiled by cplical notions of objects mentioned in
the book.

But evaery person may fiod that when he listens to him
who ia telling a story, be does not generally have conceptions
of ihe words which the story teller uses ; hut (hat all his con-
ceptions arc of objects mentioned or suggested by the storj
teller ; which conceptions may be real or substituted*

We lay it down, then, as a general fact, that the seeing of
sword is almost invariably succeeded by that seasonal action
which constiiutes an idea of the sound of such word ; but
that the heating of a word is not generally succeeded by that
lensorial action ^hich constitutes a conception of it. Why
it is so, we do not certainly know, hui guess it is this ; Wi)cn
wc first went to school, and began to learn our letters, and to
read and spell, we seldom saw a word without htaring it pro*
Dounced at the time ; and furthermore, no word was then a
sign of a thing to us, until we had heard it pronounced ; but
before, during, and after our first going to school, wc have
Very frequently heard words pronounced, and at the same
time seen the things of which they are names, when wc did
not see these words.

We are now about to ofier an opinion, which may at firsl
appear irrational, but which we believe wilir sometime or
other, be generally admitted as true. It is this :

When a person who is familiar wiih ihe zoordsj reads a book
«r hears a sioty^ perceptions are very rarely excited in him..

The reader must have a correct notion of what we mean

1)y a perception. He must conceire of the seDSoriom as ao
active little organ, situated somewhere about the centre of
the brain, possessing many tendencies to act^ and conCinoally
at if, when the man is awake ; and that it is the oiigan which
'thinks* rie must remember, too, that five kinds of nerves
extend to. and unite with, this organ ; that an action of any
one of these nerves is a sensation, and that if this same kind
of nervous action continue along into the sensorium, then we
have a perception ; but if this particular nervous action, in-
stead of continuing along into the sensorium^ only continue
.up to it, and cause Ihe scnsorium to act some other action,
which it otherwise would not, we do not have 9^ ptrception^
but a s^ensct.m and a thovght*

For a more particular illustration, if I look at the word
John^ an action will be excited in my optic nerves, which we
call an optical action, and 1 shall have a sensation, a seeing of
this word, if this optical action extend no further; but if it
continue along into the sensorium, then i shall have a^erccp*
tion^ an optical perception^ of the word John* If this optical
action, instead of continuing into the sensorium, only extend
up to it, and the sensorium,. on this occasion, owing to its
tendencies, take on that action which constitutes an audial
idea of the word John, I do not have a perception of the word
John ; but I have a sensation and a thought. Now we be-
lievelhat this is what frequently, if not generally, takes place
when one is reading a book which much interests hina, and
which is written in an easy style and (amiliar language. He
dont attend to the words themselves ; he dont think of them ;
his sensorium is continually and uninterruptedly thinking
about something else: it appears to act, as we may say, ac-
cording to the knocks which it receives upon the outside, and
not according to any gentlemen which come into the house.
Yet when this reading man comes across a new and singular

word, QF a word printed in large capitals, he has a perception
of such word, and may, therefore, have a conception of it
when he getlfthrough with the page and closes the book.

However, it is a mere matter of jadgment whether, whea
one i^ads^n interesting book, everj word excites its own pe-
culiar action of the aensorium, and always must remain so.;
for the instant we attempt to determine the question by ^ob-
serving what goes oo in ourselves, ths^t very instant shall we
have perceptions, and not sensations of words, or at least, that
very instant do actions cease to go on in our brains, as they
did before* And we must confess that we are nowise sure
that one has audial ideas of words when he penises a book^
except when he stops to consider whether he has or not, and
even then, some may perhaps decide that they have, and oth-
ers that they have not*

But if we cannot determine whether a man always perc€tre»

words when he reads, except by considering [thinking of}
facts, it may be asked what facts we think of when we come
to the conclusion that he does not. Some of the facts, oa
more properly considerations, are the following :

First. We know it is not impossible nor uncommon for 4
man to thinfc and sense at the same instant ; — we know thai
we can see an object, hear a noise, and think of something,
^uite foreign to either of them, at the same instant ;-»if we
dont know this, then we dont know ttiat we exist.

Second. When ptrctpiums of words have been instantly
succeeded by ideas of objects, marty times, it is not difficult
to admit that these ideas may be caused to occur by mere
sensations of such words ; and if we admit this, then we have
the sensorium free to think of objects, witliout being every
moment interrupted when one peruses a bouk. And it frees
Us from the necessity of admitting that the sensorium acta so
exceedingly lively as it does upon the supposition, that wb(Bn

one reads nnd understands aD author, every word of the aa-
thor must be perceived before it ctin suggest aD idea of a thiog.

However, tliere are many words which are i^ tlie signs of
ht\y particular entities, and when a person reads a -string of
such words, a great proportion of liis sensorial actions are
mere audial ideas, or ideas of sounds, and a large share of
Iho remainder, substituted, instead of real ideas. If the sight
of the words the^ on, t/es^ truth, honor^ gratiivide^ &c. excite
any thing but mere audial ideas, such other ideas must be
such as we call subitittUed ; for, surely, there are no such
things as the, on, truth, &c« in existence ; and it would be
-absurd to say a man can have a real idea of a thing which
never existed ; we might as well say a man has been to Jin-
go, when there is dot, and never was, ^ny JingO'for a man to
go to*

As we 'have now been showing why it is that a perception
•r a thought of one thing may call up a thought of another
thing, or in other words, why one thing may be, to us, a sign
of another, it is a. fit place to offer a few remarks concerning
brutes. We believe that, to Jar a$ the ienaorium alone i$
"goncefnedj the chief, if not the only reason, why brutes can-
not use one thing as the sign of another, is because this oigan
In them does not acquire sufficiently strong tendencies to act,
in immediate ttitcesnon, those actions which it has previously
acted in such succession ; or, to use more convenient* but
^figurative language, because their si^gesting principle is so
toeak*

But although (he sensorial tendencies of a brute may not
much the more readily become operative together, merely
on account of their corresponding actions having before oc-
curred in immediate succession ; sti.l it does not follow that
their tendencies to individual actions are uot as strong at
Iboseofmcn*

225

But whefhi^r a bnite^s sensorial tendencies do 8S readily
become as strong as those of men,"*^ it is very difficult to
determine ; for if the sensorial tendencies of a brute, to indi«
^idual actions, should be as strong as those of men, still thej
iniglit not become operative on such slight occasions, as those
of men, owing to the weakness of the brute^s suggesting prin-
eiple.

That brutes possess a suggesting principle, or in more cor-
rect language, that those 5en!?oriai actiuns which have occur-
cd in close succession, in them, are more or less disposed to
occur so again, is true beyond a doubt. Many an old experi-
enced ox has been known to loll on a cold winter's morning, on
seeing the yoke about to be put upon his neck ; but why does
the ox loll ? It is not because he is warm, but because the
sight of the yoke &c. excites, or more properly suggests, for-
mer ideas. It causes him to think of his labouring in the
field or on the road, and to think that his master has oftea
ceased to drive him when he has breathed quick and short,
and saficred his tongue to hang out.

It is true that the ox's sensorial aciions on this occasion,
are quite diiTerent from (he actions that would be excited by
bearing or seeing the words which we have used in stating
what the ox thinks ; but these words are such as we are un-
der the necessity of using.

There are some me^ who are already aware that we should

be very far from being such rational, intelligent, and conver-
sive beings as we now are, if our sugi^esting principle wer«

*To understand the exprcsMion, ^as rendtiy bt-come as strong as
thos<* of man ^' let the readier »nppu8e that an nctinn of the sensori-
Ufn of a brute and of a mnn, is excited vv suggested, in each, just
Six times ; now if, after this, one sensorium is just as much dis-
posed to act this sensorial action sisaiii as the other, then we say
the sensorium of the brute, aa teadity acquires a strong teudencjr
as the sensorium of the man.

29

only a little more ^efTective than what it now is* Such men
see, already, how a little diiTerence in this principle may give
rise to the striking differences between a stupid fellow and a
man of wit, or a man of judgment. Such men, too. are now
ready to admit that the original diiference between the intel-
lr*ctual powers of Adam, and the brutes around htm, might
be almost, perhaps altogether, owing to (he difference be-
tween his and ihe'ir syggesiing principle ; by which short and
convenient expression, I tru^^t I shall not be understood to
mean any thing more than the disposition of the brain to
think in connexion those thoughts which are in any way re-
lated ; and by this disposition, we mean nothing more than
simply the fact, that the brain dots think such thoughts in
connexion. Should there be any who cannot conceive how
a little diiferrence in the suggesting principle should be one
of the grand, original, or as we may say, fundamental, causes
of the intellectual difference between a man of wit and a stu-
pid fellow, or between a man and a beast ; they will, per-
haps, be enabled to do so, by reading ihe chapter on Judg-
ing, to which they will soon come.

It is generally said that woids are marks, signs, or repre-
sentatives of ideas* This saying has not been strictly exam-
ined. Concerning it much might be said. We shall merely
remark that : — Many^ words are more properly the signs of
objects, actions, q'talities, and of relations between these
.things, than they are of ideas ; that mary other words are
Bot the signs of any thing, putting aside the ideas of these
words themselves — the word, SW, we class among this num-
ber. And on the whole, as we use words more particularly
for the purpose of making our fellow beings think of some-
thing besides our idtan (which, by the by, are things that no
man ca;i have a.i idea of) and as they answer the purpose for
which tiie> aie u:ied| we conclude that there is no great pro-

2^7

priety in saying, without any reserve, that woi^« are the signs
of ideas. They are more properly signs of things without
the skull.

We now proceed to offer a supposition of the way and
manner in which Adan^ and Eve came by their languagCi
and to offer a few remarics concerning the way in which chil*
dren acquire a use of the signs, the words, already in use.

Suppose that the first time Adam saw Eve, he met her
with a lai^ red apple in his hand : Eve had eaten such
looking apples, and found that they were pleasant ; she there-
fore wishes to obtain this one : She approaches Adam, and
puts out her hand to take it from him. Adam seeing he is
about to lose his apple, withdraws his hand. Eve, at first,
knows not that this motion has any particular meaning ; but
after making several attempts to take the apple, and finding
that Adam alwajji withdraws it from her, she is led to think
that Adam intends not to let her have the apple. She, how-
ever, makes one more attempt ; Adam now withdraws his
hand, holding the apple, and at the same iime makes a noise
with his vocal organs. This noise is at first an insignificant
sound to Eve ; but again attempting to take the apple, or
something else, and finding that this sound always attends the
act of refusal, she at length thinks, as a child would, that Ad-
am would have her to understand by the noise, the same that
he does by the gesture. To satisfy herself as to this, she
again attempts to take the apple ; Adam only makes the
noise ; Eve is not yet satisfied ; Adam sees she is not, by her
still persisting ; he therefore speaks louder, perhaps repeats
his sound, and at the same time repulses Eve. By this time
Eve is satisfied that Adam means by his sound the same that
we now express by these words — i/ou shall not have it.

Presently Eve finds something which Adam wishes to ob-
tain. Ue approaches Eve as Eve bad approached him $ but

298

£ve make? the same noise that Adam did ; and Adam knows
full well what she means by it ; he knows that she means the
same that he did. They are now agreed as to (he use of one
sound ; and this may aid them in acquiring the use ofothera.

Adam and Eve now walk about together, and when they
come to a tree, rock, brook, or any other object, one points
at it, and at the same time makes a noise, which noise, of
course, becomes to them a sign of such object. — The object
excites one action of the sensorium, the sound or noise an-
other ; and these two actions having been excited together,
all that is necessary to suggest a^i idea of the object, when
absent from it, is to make the noise. i

At one time Adam jumps over a log. and at the same time
makes a certain noi^e. Here is an action, an event, and a
sign to denote this action, and henceforth, this noise may be
followed by an idea of the event. •

Suppose, now, that Adam and Eve had pen, ink and paper,
or what would answer the purposes of these materials, Adam
makes a mark, but to Eve it has no meaning, until Adam,
pointing at it, mrikes a noise; it is now to Eve a sign of this
noise ; and if the noise be the same which Adam made when
he pointed out a tree, it is also a sign of a tree, and of course,
of the same use to Adam and Eve that the mark trlk now is
to us. In this way could Adam and Eve go on and form, for
themselves, a sort of language, which might, as we can easily
perceive, be improved by succeeding generations, so as to
become as perfect as any language now is.

If this supposition of the way and manner in which our first
parents acquired a use of signs he correct, we see that they
were enabled to do so, because that when two or more actions
are excited in the sensorium at the same time, it becomes dis-
posed to act these actions in close succession ; hence, if one
of them be excited or suggested, the others immediately fol*

22«

low. Now let lis suppose tha( our sensorU or sensoriunis
had been organized a little ditFcrent, so that they would Dot
acquire any tiispo^tition to act two or more actions in close
succession, merely by having these actions excited at the
same time. What stupid and defenceless creatures wes^hould
have been ! Even if our ideas of similar looking objects hid
still suggested each other as they now do. wc could have had
no signs that would have been of much use to us ; we could
have had no language. The discoveries of one generation, if
indeed they could make any, could not be recorded, or in any
way handed down from generation to generation ; our race
could make no improvements in any thing, the hundreth gen*^
eration being no wiser than the first, and instead of bringing
every other species of animal under our subjection, we should
have been a defenceless prey to every beast of equal strength
and better claws than ourselves. It is truly wonderful how
much depends on a little, in the works of nature.

If we observe what takes place in children we shall find
that they obtain a use of signs much in the same way that we
have supposed Adam and Eve did. To pass over what takes
place in the nursery for the three or four first years of the child's
hfe, let us follow the little urchin to school. Here the teach-
er calls him to him^ takes his pen-knife, points to the first let-
ter of the alphabet, tells him to look at it, and sounds in his
ears, A^ he then points out B, and sounds this letter ; and
thus the teacher proceeds with all the letters, commanding
the little fellow to make the same sounds that he does. This
task tlie teacher performs many times, before such tenden-
cies are produced in the child's sensortum, that an optical
idi^a of the letters, may occur without impression and be con*
nected with those audial actions of the sensorium which are
in the first place excited by the pronunciation of these let-
ter^.

830

When R child is learning the letters of the alpha het, two
I{in(l8 of ac(i')n9 are excited in his sensortum ; one by way of
the optic nerves, the other by way of the auditory ; the first,
a» the reader knows, we call optical actions of the scnsorium,
to distinguish them from the latter, which we call uudial ac-
tions of the sensoriiim. Now wlien a child has thoroughly
]earnt a letter, the optical action oCthis (by which I mean, ex-
cited by this) letter will be immediately succeeded by the au^
dial action of this letter ; or the audial action will (perhaps)
be immediately succeeded by the optical, should the audial
chance to occur first. It matters not whether the optical or
the audial action be excited or suggested, in either case the
one will be followed by the other*

The child having Icr&rnt the letters of the alphabet, the
teacher turns to words. Let us suppose him to turn to the
word MAN ; what docs the teacher do, and what goes on in the
child^s head when he is said to learn to read the word man ?

The teacher points to the first letter and says : What is
that ? The child says, M . What is that ? A. What is that ?
N. "Very well,^' says the teacher, "pronounce it." But
the child knows not what the teacher means by "pronounce
it ;'^ however, it sounds to him like a command to do some-
thing, and he looks the teacher in the face, to know what
The teacher now pronounces the word, and the child soon
learns what he means by "pronounce." He will now tell off
the letters and pronounce the word. After a time, the teach-
ei shuts the book, and tells the child to spell man. But the
child knows not the meaning of the word "spell," and must
learn it in the same way that he learnt the meaning of the
word pronounce. After this the child can spell man^ for the
action excited in his sensorium when the teacher puts out
the word to him to ^pell, suggests a notion of the three let-
ters «AN| standing together, and to spell maoi he has nothing

231

to do, but to telloff these three letter as he sees them in his
"mind's eye," and then say, man^ as he has often done he-
fore, immediately after telling off the three letters man.

From this we see, that the action of the sensoriuro, excited
by way of the auditory nerves, when a word is put out to
spell, calls up that action of the sensorium which has before
been excited by seeing such word ; just as the sight of a word
calls up that audial action of ihe sensorium which has been
excited by hearing such word pronounced.

Our little urchin has now learnt his letters and learnt to
read and spell the word man ; but if this is all that he has
learnt concerning this Word, th(;n it is to him^ no sign of a being
which talks, laughs, and walks upright, upon (wo legs, and
it never will be until such being be pointed out to him, at the
same time he is told, "this is a man;" or, until he be told
^'that was a man which you saw pass by just now ;'' or, until
he have learnt the meaning of the words. fa/A, laugh^ walk
upnght^ tvfo legs^ &c. and found by a dictionary that a man
is a being that talks, laughs^ and walks upright upon two
fegs.'>

Before closing this chapter, it may be well to say a little
concermng the origin of the word soul ; in doing which we
shall give the reader a clue for accounting for the origin of
many thingless names.

To be brief, we will at once say, that men learnt. by expe*
riencc (the only way, in the broad sense of the term, that they
come to know any thing) that there is an essential difierence
between animals and inoi^anic bodies ; and a wide, if not an
essential difference between men and other animals. Now it
is the same thing in different words expressed, for a man to
learn that there is an essential difference between two things,
as it is, to learn that there is something in one of these things,
which there is not in the other* And having learnt that there

232

is something in r man wHch there is not in a block, or any
other inorganic body, it is the easiest Ihing in (he world to
pve this something a name ; hence the name soul, or mind,
to denote a Fomelhing in man which is not to be found in a
block. And as even/ man learns that (here is soniething in
man and oth(^r animals, which does not exist in any othei be-
ings, it is not at all strange that men should so generally be-
lieve in the existence of a mmjI, or of souls, as they have for-
merly done ; for having learnt that this something exists, all
that was necessary for them to do, that they might be said to
bel>eve m the existence of a soul, was to consent to use this
word as the name of the peculiar something, which eveiy bo-
dy knew to exist in the animal kingflom. So far, so good;
but presently men begin to speculate about the nature of this
something, this soul ; and instead of considering it the ner-
i^ous 5y5/f*m, possessing properties by virtue of its oi^miza-
tion, and tendencies acquired by exercise, — Ihey considered
it as something superadded to, and dhtinci from, the brain
and nerves. Then comes the en or — then comes (he oAtm,
or hypothesis without a shadow of evidence. And as there
was not, in ancient days, one man in ten hundred thousand,
who was no! too lazy or too ignorant to examine into the
truth of this wh m, and expose its falsity, it is no! strange that
it was so generally believed that the peculiar something, the
soul, which exists in animals, is something distinct from the
material body which we behold. And as this belief has given
rise to language which can but serve to aid and perpetuate
it, among people who do not examine the subject ; and as it
is incorporated with almost all religious creeds, in support of
which creeds, millions are yearly expended ; and as every
man must now, as form^^rly, be convinced that there is a pe-
culiar something within the skull which is not to be found out
ofif)— ^it is farfiom being astonibhing ihat 60 many do, even

236

in the present enlightened age, helieve in the existence of
souls or minds, as distincl {h\n^i from the animal system.

As every hody knows that there is something pecuhar in
animals, and as this something is said, by those who pa^s for
learned, to be a being distinct from the body — to be a soul ;
it is as natural for the unlearned to believe in the existence of
a soul, as it is for them to believe that the earth stands still,
while the sun moves round the earth. ' And as astronomy
alone has taught us the motions of the heavenly bodies^ so
must physiology alone, teach us the constitution of man ; —
neither the one nor the other is to be learnt in any book writ-
ten by the ancients. And as materialism must, and will be
established, the prudent religionist will no more think of op-
posing it with his Bible, or his Koran, than he does of oppo-
sing the present system of astronomy by the same book — it
would be like bringing an eg^ against a rock. As christians,
we would no sooner admit that materialism is opposed to
Christianity, than we would admit that christiaiiity is false.

As to showing how we come to have an idea of a soul, we
shall leave the task to such notable brains as thaf of Mr.
Locke, (who has charged us not to believe in the existence of
things of which we cannot form distinct ideas,) since we know
that, putting aside our optical and audial ideas of the word it*
self, au idea of a soul never yet existed in our heads.

-00-

CHAPTER XVII.

On Judging.

That the reader m^y at once know the most important po-
sitions which we are about to maiutaiu iu this chapter, we

«0

234

here state ih^m. They are the 'wo following : — Fir<»t« That
judging coni^istM in nothing other than in thinking over all
thoughts (that chance to oi ur) relative to the subjert or
question conrerning vihich we are said to judge* Si*cond«
Ttiat to '* compRre one idea with another," is an absurd ex-
pression, and means nothing ' niess it mean the sanne as, to
huvf these idfos occur in immt te svccession.

There i^ a penknife stHinped with the figures 1776. One
man believes this penknife was > |de in the }car 1776. This
is his opinion, hernuse he has f\ -a many articles which were
stamped with the figures dt notn^i, the }ear in which he kne\r
they were made. Another man judges thnt it was not made
in the year 1776, because, first, i* is now 1828, and penknivei
are generally sold, ai.d nornoul or lo.st, in Ics^ than.tifty-fwo
years from the time they are mac. Second — the year 1 776
was an impoitant vear with the L..ited States of Aitterica, af
their independence was tliat year declared, and to keep it in
remembrance, the Americans stamp, even at the present day,
many articles which they manufacture, with the figures 1776.
^iiird — this penknife, not being well finished, appears to be
of American manufac ture.

Here we see that two men have judged differently, have
come to ditfrrent conclusions, as the expression is, concern-
ing the age of a penknife, or the time when it was made. The
rtasou why they come to diffiTent conclusions is obvious ; it
is because difl'erent thoughts relative to the subject occur to
them. The arand question now is, what goes on in either
maii^s brain ? Does a.iy thing more or less occur than th s :
Tiie sensorium thinks over those thoughts relative to i he sub-
ject, to the thinking of which it has tendencies sufficienf//
strong to hi come operative on the occasion? Let nomaa
be deceived by amlnguous words, or the authority of great
mea j im hiui ieuicmber thai his opinion coiicerning tbil

333

matter, is ftsgood as that of a learned profps«or of Glasgow
or of Edh^biirg. The field is before him ; he can examine
for himself; let him turn his thoughts Inward, as Locke
'Would saj, and decide whethe'r, when he judges concerning
any subject, any thing more or le!*s occurs in him, than all
the thoughts relative to the sm^* which may chance \o oc-
cur.

If any one say that any U i; more occur, we hope he will
be so very obliging as to form us what it is ; but in doing
thi?, let him b<'ware th^ ^ he make no tatements which
will not stand the test of ^{'(liry ; and be so good as to ex*
pre98 him«elf in plain and ( '^nite terms, and not suppose a
tern^ is definite because it is very common, because it is fa-
miliar to every one»

We will venture to offer it as an opinion, that if precisely
the same thoughts occur' it mnkes no more odds as it re-
spects the conclusion, in'wnat order they occur, than it doeg
in what order you add together the tigures of a singte column,
as it respects the amount — whether )ou say that 7 and 3 is
10, and 4 is 14, and 5 is 19 ; or that 5 and 3 is 8, and 7 is 1^,
and 4 is I9,x>r whether you think these numbers over in
some other order. If we take the example of the man who
judged that the penknife above mentioned was not made ia
the year 1776, what odds can it make in his conclusion, whe*
ther his thoughts occur to him in the order above expressed^
or whether he first think that such looking knives are made
by Americans, that the Americans, even now-a-days, stamp
many things which they make, with the figures 1 776, and that
penknives are generally sold, and lost or worn out, in less
than fifty-two years ; or whether these thoughts occur in soma
other order ?

* It may perhaps he said, in opposition to this opinion, that
it often happens that one mao makes ceirlaia statemeiits ta

236

ft

another, who do(» not understand hinn, who iocs not con-
clude (liat what the man states is true ; and yet these sanne
Statennents being made to him in n diiTerent order, he then
understands and believes. But it never must be foi^otten^
thnt when you state any thing to a man, and he judges whe-
ther, what you tell him, he true or false, he thinks over a great
many more thoughts than those marked by the words wUtrh
you speak *, and it is -quite likely that by stating facti( or false-
hoods to a man in one order, you may not cause the same
thoughts to occur in his sensorium, that you would had you
stated the same facts or falsehoods in some othef order. So
we are still inclined to the opinion, that nil men come to the
same conclusion on thinking over the same thoughts, let these
thoughts occur in what order they may.

But although it is not essential as to the conclusion, in what
order the facts of data are thought of, or if you rather, in
what order ones thoughts occur ; still it is probable that dif-
forrnt men's sensoriums are disposed to think over the facts
relative to any subject, pretty much in the same order. This
aris»s from the nature of things* — from the way and order in
whu h these facts were mnde known to them — ther« is some
siniilarity between the courses hj which men acquire their
knowledge or sensorial tendencies, relative to matters and

m

things.

It-is important, however, to correct judging, that the senso-
rium have tendencies to thiidc of all the important data tliat
have an} relation to the sub'ect or question, cogitated about ;
Or in other words, it is important that the man have a pretty
perfect knowledge ofwliat relates to the subject under con-
sideration. With n^spect to the knife before mentmned. one
nianjudi;eii that it was made in the year 1776, because it had
these figures u()on it, ami because he had seen many articles ■
which he kuew were stadi^od with ti^j res, denoting the year

i

237

in which they were made ; but his conc1u^«»n w^Id hi^ve
been different^had his sensorium thought :— ^It is now fifty
iwoye^n since 1770, and knives are generally disposed of ia
less lione than thii* : — many articles maniiractored by the
americans since 1776, ace stamped with these tigureg^ &c« &c*
But as we will suppose, there were no sensorial tendencies in
hira, to think thus, he being entirely ignorant of the declara-
tion of American I'ldependence, the liability of penknives to
be lost or destroyed, &:c. &c.

If a man^s sensorial tendencies relative to any subject or
question, be, some of them, so weak as not to give rise to their
rtvpective actions when the man is called upon for his opin-
ion concerning such subject or question, .his conclusion which
he will give, will be the same as though he had no such ten-
dencies ; for a maips tendencies avail him nothing except
they give rise to action. An ignorant man's opinion or
conclusion, concerning any question, is as likely to be cor-
rect, as-the judgment of him who does not think, let his sen-
sorium be ever so full of tendencies or knowledge.

Although we say it is a matter of little if any importance,
in what order one's thoughts occur, as it respects the conclu-
sion ; we do not mean that it is a matter of indifferencQ
whether all the thoughts relative to a subject, occur in a con^
nected order, or whether incongruous thoughts are here and
there intermixed ; that is, thoughts that have no relation to
the subject under consideration. On the contrary, we be-
lieve that if a judging process be any thing diiferent, as we
think it is, from what may be called simple apprehension, or
simple, every day thinking, it consists iji thinking over all
thoughts that m^y occur coijcerning a^uistion, in a connect'
ed order, it mattering little in what orjbti a^ to priority or pos-
teriority, if it only be a connected order.

Nevertheless, in stating those facts and considerations,

n

238

which hare led. m to a certain conclusion, we generally pre-
fer some one arrangement to another ; but this arises from
the fact, that by different arrangements of the same words
and sentences, we may suggest different thoughts in others*
TVe endeavor to arrange our remarks in such order that
the true force and meaning of one may not fail of being un-
derstood for want of some knowledge that ought to have pre-
viously been given. It will never answer to begin in the mid-'
die of a story, unless we suppose our reader or hearer to be
already acquainted witb the first part.

And if there beany ditTerence between judging and reason-
ing, the difference is this : — When we reason we not only
judge, not only think over thoughts relative to a question,
but we eipress our thoughts in an order, and for the purpose
of convincing others. But in admitting this difference, afill
i% isiessentially t()e same to reason as to judge, so far as it re
spects what goes on in the brain, bating its motive actions*

It appears to us that the only consideration which any one
will even think of bringing forward in opposition to the opin-
ion that when a man judges, it matters little in what order his
thoughts occur, is this : if different men knowing the same
farts concerning any opinion, ui>dertake to convince others
that this opinion is true, or tlv^t it is f.jilse, thfy begin and
bring forward these facts, much in the same order. But this
does not convince us ; on the contrar), we find, so far as we
can determine, that when we judge concerning any subject^
ourthoughtsoccur, as we may say, all about, just as it hap-
pens. They occur much faster than we could express them
by speech or by p«n and ink, and in such an order as we
should not think of expressing them to others.

We are aware that igetaphysical writers have said much
about comparing ideas, as though jidi^ing consisted in com-
paring ideas one with aaotker^ and clearly dislinguishiug any

fiSS

difference that mav exist between them ; but all this talk ii
nonsense, — it is wor^e, — it is absurd*

We think that immaterialists have but two diflferent notions

ft

concerning the nature of ideas ; the one that an idea is some"
thing distinct from the mind ; the other, that an idea is a slati
of the mind. Now it is granted on all hands, that the mind
can enxsi but in one state at a time, or,^con6idering an idea as
something distinct from the mind, that there can be but oxxt
idea in the '* nwnd's presence-chamber,*' at the same time.—*
To be sure, some speak of a " store of ideas," but these very
p4*rsnn9 themselves know not what they mean, nor does anj
one else, unless thej mean the sensorial tendencies. — Nobodj
believes that we can have but one thought^ idta, or act of
ihatzohich thinks at the same identical instant. It is certain,
also, that every idea is (in itself considered, and not consid**
ered in relation to something else, or as the schoolmen would
lay, abstractedly considered,) a rial idea, and must either ex*
ist or not exist \ and as only one idea exists at one time, no
other idea exists at the same time. Now, in the name of
common sense, how does one state of the mind compare to-
other two other states that do not exist ? or how does one
idea compare together two other ideas that do not exist ? or
bow does one act of that which thinks, compare together twp r
other acts that do not exist ? or how does one state, idea, or
act compare itstlf^'\\\\ another state, idea, or act, which does
not exist, or what is the same thing, compare itself with no*
thing ?

If we admit, for the sake of argument, that a man may be
laid to compare two ideas, in any common acceptation of the
word Gomp.ire, we must admit that this comparing is an act
of that which compares — of that which thinks ; and if an ac-
tion of that which think:^ be not a thought, pray what is a
thought ? He that says it is a iiatt of the mmd, must also ad-

240

init that it is an act of (he mind — must admit that when flie
mind is acting one action, it is in one state, and when it is
acting; a diff^Tent action, it is in another state, and so on. He
will not be so absurd a«» to s>ay that, during the existence of all
our thoughts, the mind n in-an inactive state — that to changt
gtHtes, TO act,' does not constitute a thought, but that to he in
a state, to be inactive^ constitutes a thought. — Can an unex-
tended mind, a mind which has no parts, be in as nnany differ-
ent inactive states as we have different thouglits !

If then the very act of comparing be a thought, as truly as
any other act of that which thinks, what, pray, does compar-
ing thoughts — what, pray, does judging — consist in, but in
having actions (or thoughts) one aftor another, of thai wbich
thinks?

But the truth is, when a,man ia said (very improperl}) to
compare two thoughts together, and to be sensible of a differ-
ence betwien ihem, no third thought intervenes. To have two
different thouuhts in immediate succession, is to be sensible
of a difference between them. This is the very nature of
thoughts. If we could not say that we are sensible of a dif-
ference between two thouahts, then these two thoughts woujd
be alike ; they would, to all intents and purposes, be hut om
thought occurring twice. When we say we are setisible of
the difference between thoughts, we use such language (bad,
to be sure) as we are obliged to ; but we must not be de-
ceived 5 we muFt not suppose that tins bting sensibh^ suppo-
ses any third act of the sensorium, or, as the immaterialij^ts
would say, of the mind. If I' have an idea or conception of
a sheep, and this idea be immediately succeeded by an idea
of a horse, I do not h-ive to compart these two ideas together,
before 1 am sensible of a difference between them. An idea
of a sheep an J an idea of a horse are two different ideas, and
1 no sooner have them ia cloac bucce^bion, than 1 am sensible

241

of a difierence between them, as the expression is. No in*
terventng action of my sensoriam takes place ^ there is, in-
deed, DO separate or third act, for the expression ,* 1. am sen-
sible'^ to signify.

However, by altering the common meaning of words, you
can make out any thing you please ; you can make out that
three times ten is not thirty, if you alter the common meaning
of the word thirty, and say it is equal to seven times five ; and
in this way you can make out, that when a man judges, he
not only compares together things that exist without the head,
but ideas with ideas. And as it is a common way of speaking,
to say of a man. he compares ideas, compares one thing with
another, &c. when he judges, it may, perhaps, be as well not
to discard thi/form'of speech, but to show what the word com'
fare must, in truth, signify, in the various instances in which
a man is said to compare.

If we compare two bodies that are present for examination,
in order to be sensible whether they differ in appearance^ the
act of comparing consists in nothing other than in viewing
these bodies on all sides ; and if there be any difference of
appearance between them, we are immediately sensible of it,
without any subsequent actiori of or re-action of the sensort-
vm. Objects that are different in appearance excite different
actions in the optic nerves and sensorium — excite different
perceptions \ and a sense of difference between our percep-
tions, as between our thoughts, supposes nothmg more than
that these perceptions are different — if there be no sense of
difference between two perceptions, then these perceptiont
are, in truth, one pen-eption occurring twice. To be sensi-
ble of a difference of appearance between a hat and an ink-
stand, a man has nothing* more to do, than to look at them,
or to look at the one, at the time he has a notion of the other,

or to have an idea (not a aight) of both, at the same time. But

91

■

i/n TPan h»Te nn idea of an inkstand to-d»T, and nof an idea
of a h.it until some time after, it cannot be said that he has a
sense of the difference between an inkstand and a hat— the
Tery essence of comparing two ileaa and of beir^ sensible of
a difference between them, consisting in haying the^e two
i(|eas orcur in immediate succession.

'If a man is to judge whether there be any diflerence he**
tween two sounds, he has onl^ to listen ; if the sounds be diC<
ferent, they will excite in him different perceptions ; and this
13 88 much as to sny the man will be sensible of a dtfiereoca
between the sounds.

To be sensible whether two bodies difler in weight we have
only to handle them, to heft them; if they be sensibly differ-'
ent we shall be sensible of it, without any further comparing.
It appears, then, from what we have been saying, that to be
sensible of any sensible difference between perceptible bodies,
nothing more is wanting than to have such bodies act apon our
senses in close succession.

However, if we are called upon to say how much any two
things differ from each other, (hen something more is necessa-
Ty than merely to suffer Ihem to act upon our senses, if a
cubic inch of gold and a two-inch cube of gold be placed be*
fore a man, and the man be requested to say how much the
one will weigh more than the oiher ; in order to answer cor^
rectly, a little thinking mu?«l go on in the man's head. Hav-
ing learned that both pieces are of the same quality, he must-
think : — A two inch cube is a body two inches long, two inch*
es broad, and two inches thirk, all its angles being nght an*
gles, and if the upper half be cut off, and either half be divid-
ed in the middle of its length, and cross-divided in the middle
of its breadth, it will be cut into four equal pieces, each of
which will he a cubic inch, and if one half contain four cubic
inches, the other half must contain four cubic inches ; and as

S4i

.1

iwice four is eight, a two inch cube of gold contains as muchi
iveighs as much, and is woith as much as right cubic inches*
We do not say that he whoi^ ah-eady a mathematician, must
think over all these paiticulars before he tomes to a correct
conclusion concerning the relative weights of Ihefle two pieces
of gold :~^The tutoring of his brain may liave been such as to
give it a ready tendency to think at once : — A two inch cube
of gold is eight times as large as a cubic inch, and of cour^^e
will wergh,and is worth eight times as much.

He that judges of (he relative quan(ities of these two pieces
of gold, is said to compare them together ; but what, we ask,
does he nriore or less than think over, in a connected order,
those thoughts or those data, or those facts, (it matters Dot
which you say) that relate' to the subject ?

In the abovf> case, the facts which lead to the conclosioQ
that a two inch cnbe of gold is worth eight times as much as
a cubic inch, arc, as the expiession is, self-evident — there ii
no dispute atniut them, men are universally agreed as to the
meaning of each word used ; hence if the judger think of all
of them, and not use any word in some new sense, the conclu*
sion which he comes to, and which he expresses, must be of
the same certain and indisputable nature. But if there he
tome error in the data — if the judger take that for true, which
is not true ; and if there be not two errors that shall counter*
balance each other, the conclusion must certainly be false*

Suppose a man who does not know what a two inch cube
is, were requested to say what the difference is between an
inch cube and a two inch cube ; he might think : An inch is
one inch, two is twice one, and hence a two inch cube is
twice as much as an inch cube. Here would be an error of
the judger ; it would be an error to think that a two inch cube
bears the same relation to an inch cube, that two bears to
•Qe« It matters not what the cauie of the error be, whether

2U

it be owing to so much perfect ignorance, or to a slip of the
man's sensorium ; or, to speak in intelligible language, whe-
ther it be owing to a want of those sensorial tendencies which
give rise to stich thoughts (not to mention others) as we ex-
press by these words : — A cube is a body of six equal sides,
which join or meet at right angles ; or whether it be owing to
the weakness of these tendencies, so that the man thinks as lie
would if he had them not. — As we have said, an ignorant
man's opinion is as likely to be correct, as the opitiioo of him
who does not think.

In all cases in which a man thinks erroneous data, the con-
clusion must he false, unless the errors be such as exactly to
counteract, or counterbalance eachother«

For illustration, suppose a man is to judge how long it will
take a horse to travel from Templeton to Boston. The da-
ta are : it is seventy-two miles from Templeton to Boston ; a
horse can travel six miles an hour : — the conclusion is, it will
take a horse twelve hours to travel from Templeton to Boston,
Bui this conclusion, though correct according to the data, is
in reality erroneous, because one of the data is erroneous ; —
it is but sixty miles from Templeton to Boston. Yet as we
have said, two errors may be of such a nature .is to counter-
act each other, and the conclusion may still be correct. Iff
in the above case, the man had nt>t only thought that it is
scventy-lwo miles from Ttmpleton to Boston, but had thought
that six is contained in seventy-two just ten times, his conclu-
sion would have been, that a horse, traveHing at the rate of
six miles pci hour, will go from Templeton to Boston in tea
hours, which, indeed, is the truth of the matter.

As it 48 more important to determine what judgi ng or rea-
soning consists in, than some of our readers, perhaps, W'''y
think, we will adduce one more casein which it may as pro-
perly'besaid that a man comes to a new conclusion by judg^

245

ing, reasoning, or by comparing ideas with ideas, "as in any
other.

A man who believes in free agency, goes to bed where no
impressions are made upon his senses, and thinks — ^' Well,
another day is gone, and what good thing have I done to-day ?
None at all. 1 ought to have wrought in the field ; I have
some corn which I wish was hoed ; but my desire to go and
Beo the shows was greater than mv desire to go to hoeing, so
I went to see the shows. When there, I wished to keep my
money, but my desire for a gU&s of spirits was greater, so [
took a glass ; then that ugly devil called me a thief and a liar
— it made me so mad that I cfould not kef>|f my hands off of
him ; I struck him and he struck me; and now my face is
black and blue from his blows. Could I hblp all this ? I
could now ; I have learnt something to-day ; I am not in ^11
respects the same person that I was yesterday or this mom*
ing, 1 can go to hoeing to-morrow morning, and even ad-
vise others not to go to see the shows, and there spend their
money ; but the question is, could F, in the morning, taking
me aa I was, and not taking me as I should have been had I
had a different mind or different desires, have done otherwise
than I did ? I cannot see as I could, for it is a law of nature,
consequently a stubborn law, that every man act according
to his predominant desire — that he do that (possible act)
which, on the whole, he chooses, or what is the sanie thing,
has the strongest desire to do. Now all thoughts, all desires,
are the children of two parents only, organization and educa-
tion,.and our education depends on the impressions that are
made upon our senses. These two things are (lie parents of
all our thoughts and sensations ; and nothing is wanting but
a little peneiration, as the expression is, to convince any one
that a man has no more absolute control over the impressions
made upon his senses, than he has over his original orgauiza*

246'

tioii.*-True, a man may think — I will not go to that house of^
mcktdness where I shall ste so much vice — where auch peccau^
desire will be excited in me ; and so not go. But should he
think so, these very thoughts owe their exi^t^nce to sensorial
tendencies produced by former impressions ; therefore we
thHil find, by tr^icing every sensation, thought and emotion to
its first origin, that nothing is more true than that man is first
acted upon and then acts accordingly ; and that every im*
'pression which is made upon his seniles, must as necessarilj
be made, as any other eifect must follow its cause. This
being true, is a man a free agent ? 1 have always been taught
that a man is a free agent ; and on thinking but little about
it, it has appeared to me that it must be so : I will now com-
pare the evidences or arguments for and against this quc»*
tion, that' I may see which class best accords with what [
know to be facts.

" Well, then, in the first place, from my own experience, I
am led to believe, and every body believes, and indeed it is a
fact, that there is no event without a cause ; that nothing
acts nor ceases to act, until it is caused to act, or caused to
rest 5 hence every thought and every other event which does
occur, must as necessarily occur as an etfect must follow ita
cause ; for indeed it is nothing short of an effect of a cause*
Now the assertion that man is a free agent, is diametricMlly
opposed to this fact. To be a free agent, is to be something
that can act without being acted upon — something in which
actions occur without a cause. To be surv, a man may do
as he pleases, chooses, or has a mind to ; but this is saying
nothing at all in favor of a man^s free agency. Does he
choose to do this or that without a cause ? If he do, then we
have events without causes ; if not, then man is not a free
agent. Free agency, 1 begin to think, is a peculiar attribute
•f the Omnipotent. However, let me examine what may be

647

laM on the other side of (he question.

«r Well, I can't think of any thing that

Can be said, which has the appearance of being in favor of
the doctrine of free agency, except that God Almighty will
damn men to all eternity if they don't do so and so, and that a
man oiay do as he pleases, chooses, or has a ** mind to.'' As
to the first, I never heard God Almighty say that he should
damn any one to all eternity ; of course, it must.be with me
a matter of judgment whetlier he ever did.* Now I have no
doubt but that he will do so, if he said he should ; but I
should not judge that he will damn any man eternally, when
he never did any thing without ^ cause — never did any thing
but what he must as necessarily do, as gunpowder must burn
when fire is communicated to it,

'* As to saying that a man may do as he pleases, chooses, de^
•ires, wishes, or has a mind to, the whole means nothrngmore
than that a man ma> have a greater desire to do one thing
than to do another, and may (must) act according to the pre*
dominant desiie. But as I was just now thinking, this is say-
ing nothing in favor of man's free agency ; for these desires,
like ever}' thing else, must occur, whenever they are caused ;
and to say that a man has control over his desires, is as truly

* Lxcepting selfevideni propositions, and what we witness our*
selves, ever} ihiiig is h matter of jmignu nt. If ten men come to
me and tell me that there is a cow in my garden, I should no doubc
believe them, and proceed to drive ber out But why do I believe
them ? It is not because of 'iny thing self-evident in the nature of
the statement ; but becauf^e it is most likely— it much more fre-
quemly happens, as I have tound by experience, that a cow gets
into one's garden, than that ten men, ot even one man, go to an*
other and tell him that there in a cow in his gar<)en when theie is
Bot 'If I knew such men to be a ^et of lying, tticktsh fellows, dis-
p<)sed to put upon me, and d* my garden were fenced all around
^ith a strong fence seven teet high, and if 1 had jusi ctmie out of it|
^nd locked the only gate, and had ihe key in my pockety 1 sbuulil
not believe that there is any cow in my garden.

24d

though not as obviously ahsurd, as to say (hat a man has con-
trol over his onginal organization — as to say a male might
hav€ been born a female, or might have groivn to be a female
after he was born, the power being within himself, and the
laws of nature being subject to such power.

'' A man has no absolute control over his desires, and none
but the shortisightcd will say it. To be sure, a man may de-
sire to go to a house of lewdness, and thrre >hall be no mecha-
nical impediment to his going, and yet he docs not go ; but he
that sa)s that such man curbs or controls his desires, does not
gpeak philosophically. The truth is, the man thinks over
(not by the ^* will,^' but the tendencies of his sensorium are
such that he thinks over) all the bad conf>equenccs of going,
such as disease, self-reproach, loss of character, loss of money,
perhaps of life — he thinks how probable it is that some of
these evils will attend his goint; ; and on the whole, although
his desire to go to said houjse be great, his desire to avoid the
consequences of going is still greater, and so, instead of curb-
ing or controlling his desires, he only acts agreeable to tl»e
strongest, as e\ery body else does ; for such is the law of vo-
lition.

*^ It appears, then, that it is more agreeable with what 1 know
to be a fact, {that there art no events without causes^) to say
that man is not a free agent, than to sa) that he is; therefore
I aay thut man is not a free agent. '^

We have now supposed a case in which a man retires to hit
bed. where no impressions of importance are made upon hit
senses, and by mere cogitation comes to a new conclusion con-
cerning free agency. In this case it may as truly be said that
the man judges, reasons, or compares ideas with ideas as in
any other. But what goes on in his head ? It appears to us most
clearly, that. all this judging, reasoning, or comparing of ideas,
consiits iu nothing more or le^s than in having ideas relative

^49

to the qcie^tioB, (idea*, which are of course disposed to run
together, for inasmuch as they relate to the subject they are
related to each other,) occur, one afier another. And if, by
eomparing id^as ihe schoolmen mean having ideas occur in
close succession^ there is some truth in the expression ; but if
they do not mean this, we must continue to say, that they talk
nonsense, until they show us, distinctly, what they do mean.

From what has been said, it appears, that those who talk
about a judging, a reasoning, a guessing, or an intuitive '^prin-
ciple«'' meaning by such principle, something superadded to
that which thinks, talk about that which has no existence*

When any thing is reported to an assembly of men, some may
think the report is true, and some that it is not. In such case it
would he no uncommon way of speaking, to say that each man
forms his opinion,, by comparing the report with his former
knowledge ; and ditfereut men form different opinions, because
they are men of different knowledge. Such language as this,
though 6gurative, is not absurd, it means something. Suppose
that Asa reports that Ben, of Coik, has murdered David of
that place. One man thinks this report is true; because he
knows that such reports are generally true; because he has
been told that Ben; the murderer, is a vicious drunken fellow
and very quarrelsome ; because he has been led to believe
that Asa, the reporter, will not lie or tell marvellous things
merely to excite notice, &:c. &c. But another man thinks
the report is false ; because he knows that Asa is a liar; he*
cause he knows that Ben, notwithstanding what has been said
of him* is a peaceable and sober man; because he has
lately been at Cork, is well acquainted there, and knows of
DO such inhabitant in town as David.

h) the above case, it may be said that the men compare
what they bear with what they know, (it matters not whether

250

tbej hare been (aught falsely or truly, it is know to tfaem,)
and being men of different knowledge,' they come to differ*
ent conclusions. But this comparing consists in nothing other
than thinking over one thought after another.

But when men on hearing the same statements, conclude,
some of them, that the thing stated is false, and others that it
is true, it would be unmeaning, or at least, unphilosophical,
to say that they do so because they are men of different '* judg-
ments.*' It would, also, be incorrect to say that they come
to different conclusions on thinking over the same faots or
data.

In the first place, a man^s ^ judgment^^ can mean nothing
other than his opinion, belief, or conclusion; and to say that
men believe differently, or have difiereot opinions conceining
any matter, because they are men of different judgments,
would be as nonsensical as to say that they have different
opinions, because they have different opinions. As to saying
they form different conclusions from the same data, this is
false ; unless we use the word data in a certain restricted
sense :— they do not come to different conclusions on think*
ing over the same thoughts. It must never be forgotten, that
the statements narrated to any one in any story or bit of news,
are very far from being all that such one thinks of in case he
judge whether the main story be true or false. Every impor*
tant consideration, relative to the subject, is likely to occur ;
and every thing which has any bearing upon the sul^ect, and
which the juiger thinks of, may, in the broad sense of the
word, be considered as data to such judger. We believe that
all men, on thinking the same thoughts, on thinking of the
same facts, always come to the same conclusion.

We have said that judging consists in thinking of every thing
which relates to the subject, in a connected order ; but we
would be understood, that this is important to correct Judg-

J

S5l

ing« Whoever comes to a conclusion in this way, will-nevei:
entertain a different, unless falsehoods have been or shall be
imposed on him for facts. We^ are far. from saying that a
man cannot jud^e concerning any question unless he be ac-
quainted with all the facta of importance that relate to the
question. But me would say that the more any man knows
concerning any question, the more likely is his opinion con*
eerning this question to be correct. When a man thinks of
every thing he knows concerning any question, in a clear and
uninterrupted order, he judges as well as he ever can con*-
eerning this question, until he knows more relative to it.

It may be asked if men generally think of every particular
fact that relates to a question, before they oome to' have that
consciousness which we call a belief, opinion, conclusion, or
conviction, concerning this question — before they feel a con-
viction that the negative or atfirmative of. such question is
true ? We answer, no.

Men often feel satisfied as to the truth or falsity of any thing
stated to them, the moment they hear it ; and it is too fre-
quently the case that they utter their opinion, and blindly in*
sist on its being correct, before they have been at the pains of
thinking over every thing that relates to it. The reason they
feel satisfied so instantly, is this : they have previously thought
of many facts relative to the subject, and in this way have ar-
rived to certain conclusions ; these conclusions they, of
course, hold to be true ; (for this is 4>nly saying in othet
words, that they arrive to such conclusions ;) they hold them
as principles by which the truth of other sayings are to be
tested ; and to test them they have only to think them in con-
nexion with such principles. If the sayings agree with these
principles, tliey are immediately sensible of it, on thinking of
them in connexion with the principles ; so if they disagree^
they are iaunediately sensible of it. For illustration ; It ia

252

with tne. an ultimate conclusion, a rundamcnial principle, that
Ike bram thinks ; but this conclusion is the result of many
years' study. In arWving at it, I may have thought ovcrfive
thousand particular facts which have some relation to it ; in
this way 1 may have first arrived to several minor conclusions,
inch as, — Thinking goes on iu the head — Whatever affects the
loxoer central part of the brain, affects one'^s poioers to think —
Animals whose brains are less perfectly devtloped^ possess m-
ferior thinking abilltivs^ ^c, <J'C. And as a variety of particu-
lar facts may have led to these minor conclusions, so these
minor conclusions may have led to the grand conclusion, —
the brain thinks. Now if any one tell me that an immaterial
thing lodged in one's brain, thinks, I no sooner hear him than
I am sensible that what he says docs not accord with what is
with me a fact or principle ; hence I can instantly bay that
what 4he man tells me is false.

A^ain. It may he asked« if a man's conclusion may not be
correct, if, while he is thinking over the facts that relate to a
question, he chance to think, here and there, many thoughts
which are foreign to the question? We answer, i»o; but it
will be said, how often does it happen that while a man is
judging he is interrupted by questions and the like, which ex-
cite thoughts foreign to the subject under consideration ; and
}et the man arrive to a correct conclusion ! All this we grant,
but the truth is, after being interrupted in his cogitations, the
man begins anew, and thinks all the particular facts over again,
or else he had, previous to being interrupted, summed up, as
it were, all these particulars into a few minor conclusions, so
that after, he has only to think of these conclusions in one sin-
. gle and*uointerrupted glance, to .come to the same conclusion
that he would if he had not been interrupted. Hence a man
may cog'tate half an hour upon some question and not come
to a final dctenninaliou ; (our metaphysical vocabulary con-

■i f

2M

tains a sarplus of words ;) at this instant he may be interruptr-
cd, and afterwards come to a final judgment, in (ive minutes*
It appears to us pretty clear that in order to judge correctly
concerning any suhject, a man must thmk of every thing that
has any important bearing on the subject, in one single, and
uninterrupted train, or else he must have the numerous indi-
vidual facts summed up into miiior conclusions, and must think
over these conclusions in a like uninterrupted succession.
Were it not npces^sary to think every iinpoitant thought or
fact, then a man might be ignorant of an Important fact, and
yet form just as correct a conciu^^ion ; and if he could do this,
we should, indeed, cease to call the fact important, as it re-
spects the conclusion. We are led fo think that all the im«
portant particular facts (or their equivalents) concerning any
subject, or question, must occur in an uninterrupted order to
constitute a judging process, not only from finding (so far as
wc can determine by ^'turning our thoughts inw^rd^^) that
this is what takes place in us when we judge; but from the
following considerations.

First. That which thmks can think but one thought at a
time, and if a man be caused to stop in the middle of a train
of thoughts relative to a question, and to think something
quite foreign to this question : then his train is divided into
two parts ; one part of which is past and gone, and ihe other
part of which is still to come. Now if the first part, or some
conclusion arrived at by thinking over the first part, do not
again recur in connexion with the latter^ it seems to us as
though the man's conclusion must be the same as if the first
part had never occurred at all — mu&t be the same as if the
nian were so ignorant as not to know the facts which he
thought of in the first part of the train.

Second. If we grant, as we do, that what is called a judg-
ing or reasoning process IS different from viihat is ordinarily

going on in o.ur beads ; it would puzzle us ezceedingly to tell
wtiat this differ^ice consists in, if we did not say it consists in
thinking over every thing related to the subject concerning
whi( b we judge, in a connected order. To think of ererj thing
in a disconnected order, would not constitute a judging; if it
would, one might think of one thing relative to a certain sub-
ject tu-day, of another thing to-morrow, and so on, until in the
course of a week or fortnight he may have thought of ever/
thing relative to the subject, and then be said to have judged
concerning it ; although he may have not thaugbt of two thiogi
relative the subject, in connexion.

Third. If a man, while reading a book, think of this, that,
and the other thing which does not. relate to the subject be^
ibre him, be does not obtain the author's meaning, and in ol-
der to do this* must read the page or sentence over again.

tVhat is ntcessary to consiiiute a good judger ? Several
thinjTs are necessary to constitute a good judger. We will
notice three or four. .

First. It is necessary that (he brain be a moderately active
one ; that is, a brain in which one action, or one thought,
proves the occasion of another which is pretty nearly related
to it ; and not a brain which thinks one thought after another,
vthirh thoughts bear only very slight and unimportant rela^
tli»)s to each other. If the brain be too active, or, to speak
figtirately, if the suggCBting principle be too active, thoughts
are liable to occur when the man is judging, which bear only
{oaie oi)9cure and unimportant relation to each other. Such
a !)rain, instead of thinking over in a connected order, all
tiio'Jirhts that have any important bearing upon the question
u.ider consideration, would skip off, as it were, to some other
subject ; hence incongruous thoughts would, here and there,
be popping into existence, dividing the true judging train into
sev4:ral pa> ts. But such thinking as this would not constitute

.256

a clear ami distinct view of a BubjeeU-^Tnstead of not thmlH
iDg eDoagh, sach a brairn thioks too much.

Oq the other hand, if the brain be not active enough, tna-
ny important thoughts may not occar, atthoagh these thought*
be such as have before occurred in the same brain ; and on
this account the conclusion may be as different from what it
otherwise would have been, as a chemical compound from
what it would have been, had many elements entered into it.
which did not* — Wits have very active brains ; reasoners,
moderately active ones ; and biockhesds, very dull brains.

Second* To be a good judger, it is necessary that the brain,
or niore strictly, the sensorium, possess such tendencies that,
on the occasion, it will think all, or at least a great proportion
of the thoughts that have any bearing upon the subject judg-
ed ofm In other words, knowledge is necessary to a good
judger. It is a bad thing to have the sensorium possess false
tendencies — tendencies to think of things differently from
what they actually are in nature ; as if, for instance, one bad
been taught, and of course had tendencies to think, what we
would express by these words: Gunpowdtty if saton^ vnli
tome up and bear a new crop of gunpowder.

Third, it is necessary that the sensorial tendencies be suf-
ficiently strong to become operative on the occasion. The
sensorium iifay be well organized-^may be naturally active
enough, and may possess a good number of tebdencies \ but
ewmg to its having acted but few times, these tendencieit may
be so weak as not to become operative when they ought to \
thnt is, the thoughts corresponding to these tendencies will
not occur, though naturally related to other thoughts which
do occur.

We sometimes hear it said that a man's judgment ia warp-
ed by prejudice. We admit that there is some meaning ui
this ambiguous expresaiooy and wdl bring a caae iu wbich it

256

may Vie said that a man'a judgment is warped by prejudice ;
in doing whirh we shall give our views of the nature of this
prejudice. Suppose the passion of love to have been excited
in a man by a lady of fine accomplishments, and in whose
company he has enjoyed many pleasurable emotions — sup-
pose him now to travel untn some distant land, and there see
a similar looking lady, of whose character he knows nothing :
this lady, owing to the disposition of his sensorium to act iu
connexion those actions which are related, re-excites many
of those pleasurable emotions which the man experienced
while in company with the other lady. He would, on this ac-
count, he favorably disposed towards her ; and if he were
DOW told of any crime which bhe had done, he would not so
readily believe it, or, at least, if he did believe it, (as he
would if he thought over the same thoughts as others who be-
lieved it,) he would look upon it, as we may say, with a for-
giving temper — he would think whether or no sht were not
placed under peculiar circums^tances, and acted from better
motives than is generally supposed. The det'd would not ap-
pear so heinous to him — would not exrite such a lively sense
of disapprobation as though she had never awakened any
pleasurable emotions in him. The reason is thig : even now
the thoughts of (he evil deed are mingled with the pleasurable
emotions, so that what he now experiences is not pleasurable
emotions, purely, nor purely a sense of disapprobation.

When a man will not hear or read arguments against doc-
trines which he believes, or when convinced of his errors, he
will not own it; we would not speak so favorably of him as
to say he is prejudiced ; we would say he' is a wilful old hy-
pocrite, determined to adere to his opinions, false or true;
and professing to believe that which he does not. Surely, if
n man profess to believe that a great proportion of mankind
will be forever miserable in a futi^re state, because a woiuaR

CHAPTER XVIII.

On Belief, .

Before we attempt to define belief, or rather, before we at-
tempt to show what (akes place in a man'o head when he it
said to believe; we must say a little concerning the meaning
of certain other words and expre9sion8«

We consider the expressions — To think — to think thoughts

-^to think of /AtVtgf— and to think over facta^ or te«timonie8|

as synonimous expresf*ions, or so nearly synonimous ttiat we

shall leave it to more acute thinkers to point out the difier«

ence between them, if they think it worth while to puzzle

their heads about it. And we hold that to thinks means the

tftme thing as to have thoughts occur; and the reader alreadj

kuowsy that wc consider a thoiighi, and a couscieut action of

33

i

eat an apple some thousand years ago, when he does not be^
lieve so, why not call hini a hypocrite, and say to him, ^^ wo
unto thee ?" -i

We are now about to enter on a subject which is render*
ed rather abstruse by the language which relates to it|
and which has so long been in familiar use, that we cannot
conveniently avoid using it. The influence of language over
one^s opinions, is almost inconceivable. Even those who
are aware of this Aict, and strive to rid themselves of this in*
fluenccy are often most strangely blinded by it.* We are per-
petually haunted with the notion that every name must meaa
some thing, and that words and expressions which are, in
themselves, quite dilTcreut, must ooean something quite difibr-
eat.

258

the sendprium, as one and the same thing. By incongruous
thoughts, (an expression we shall soon have occasion to use)
we mean such thoughts as we should express by what we call«
ed, contrary terms or statements. Peter testifies that Joho
Kendall was at his house last Saturday evening at eight o'-
clock ; Goodell testifies that he lives twenty miles from IV
ter^s and that said John Kendall was at his house last Satiir>
day evening at eight o'clock, and that he stayed there all night.
These two evidences excite in us, incongruous thoughts—
their testimonies are incongruous, and they are incongruous
evidences.

There are two species of belief, sensorial or rational belief,
and nervous or sentient belief.

Rational belief is that consciousness which exists when a
N man thinks over congruous thoughts or testimonies. If the
thoughts be perfectly congruous — be all bearing one way,
the belief may be said to be of the highest degree ; but if
there be any disagreement, or incongruity between one's
thoughts, relative to a particular subject or question, his be-
lief relative to this subject or question, will be of a lower de-
gree. If the evidences for and against any question exactly
, counterbalance each other there is no belief as to this ques-
tion — the man does not feel any conlncSion, as the yexpre^sion
lE^, that an affirmative or a negative answer to this question
would be the true one.

Now comes the rub. —

We lay down the following positions as indisputable :^htt
whatever thinks, can think but one thought at a time — that a
thought is an act of that which thinks — and that putting aside
sensations, consciousness does not exist when thnt which thinks
is inactive. Hence it follows, that when a man thinks he is
Dot conscious, and when he is conscious he does not thii»k, or
else, that, to think, and to be conscious, are one. and the same

^^

869

thing ; con«ciou9neeis being^ofcourse, a word almost superflu*
OU8, and calculated to puzzle the philosopher and deceive
those who ^^ take words for things and suppose that names in
books signify real entities in nature." No one, we think, can
hesitate, for a moment, which totajr — he will saj that to think
is to be conscious*

Thus much we have said, that the reader may the better
understand and admit what we are about to ss) concerning
belief* We do not suppose that the word belief signifies any
particular act of that which thioks-^any act which always
occurs when a man believes, let him believe what he may ;
but we suppose that, to TniNK ovcr cosfoRuons thoughts,
IS TO BKLiKVB. Heuce a man may have as many beliefs as
be may think over trains of congruous thoughts, relative to
the innumerable subjects and questions with which mankind
are concerned.

A man can have no idea of belief, except of the word it&elf,
nor can he say that when he believes he always experiences
some particular feeling or consciousness. But this he can
say, to believe a thihg and not to believe i.t, are not one and
the same thing; and this is pretty much all he can say about
it, if he be no metaphysician. If he turn his thoughts inward,
and attempt to satisfy himself by observation, what it t>, to be*
heve, he gets no satisfaction — he cannot find that any thing
more or less takes place within, than ideas of objects, sounds,
flavors, &c. one after another. It is not an easy matter to
determine by direct observation what constitutes believing.

Every man would always believe the shortest statement that
can be made concerning any thing, if this statement contained
within itself no contradiction, and if the statement ,did not
suggest any further thoughts relative to the same thing. If a
man should step in, and say to me, there is a cow in your gar*
den^ I should certainly believe him if nothing further should

2«0

occur to me concerning the matter : — I do believe him tfie ve-
tj instant I hear him, and may this instant start to drive her
dut; but the next instant some thought may occur to me,
^hich is inconsistent with this statement, and this instant my
behef is ireakened if not destroyed. If I tliink that my gar-
den is so fenced that no cow can get into it except through the
gate, that I was just now in my garden, looked all over it, and
there was no cow in it then, and that when I came out 1 lock-
ed the only gate, put, and still have, the key in my pocket ; I
may even believe in a high degree, that there is no cow in my
garden, so turn about and come back*

The reason why we believe that four and four are eight,
and that4he three angles of -a triangle are equal to two right
angles, if because we think over no incongruous thoughts con-
cerning these things. It is universally agreed that the name
of that sum which is equal to twice four, shall be eight ; but
suppose that a child were told by one, that four and four are
eleven, by another that four and four are six, and by a third
that four and four are eight ; would he believe that four and
four are eight? Surely be would, as the 'expression is, have
doubts about it*

If two men should tell him that four and four are six to one
that tells him that four and four are eight, he would, other
things being equal,* believe in a low degree,t that four and

one

* •• Other thinfrs bfiog equal."— >FAa/ things? The principal
e IS the child's confidence in his instructors. Hut what is one's
€onfidenct in a thing, and how does he come by it ? One's confi-
dence in any (hlng, or concerning any thing, is the same a« his be*
lief in such thing, or concerning such thing ; and in the case of the
child, he is as confident that one of his teachers tells him the truth
as that the other dops, provided he have never found that either of
ihem told him any thing false, and that he know both are equally re*
puted by others for veracity, &c. &c.

t There are all degrees of belief, from the highest conviction to
the merest coujecturer We have not yet agreed up«a terjus to cx<-

261

four ftre six. If the world were dispnting about the meaning
of the word right-apgU^ some saying it is an angle of 80 de-
grees, some, that it is an angle of 90 dejirees, and others that it
is an angle of 45 degrees, &c« &c. ; then one might not believe
that the three angles of a triangle are eqaal to two right cm*
gUs. It is true that this dispute and uncertainty about the
meaning of one or more woids, would not alter the absolute
nature or relation of angles ; but it would cause some to make
statements concerning them which others would not believe.
Disputes and disagreements give rise to uncertainty ^ by
which term we mean a low degree of belief, or even neutral"
ity of opinion. — When a man is neuter as to his opinion con*
cerning any question, it is common to hear him say, ^' I
scarcely know what to believe about the matter.^'

Our intuitivt belief of, or relative to, mathematical axioms,
is owing to the universality of agreement among men as (o
the meaning of the terms of the mathematical sciences, and
to the unchangeableness of the relations t>etween numbers^
angles, &c.in themselves considered. If twelve cubic inch
biorks, placed side by side, extend a certam discance, which
distance we call a foot, the same number of like blocks, pla-
ced in like manner, will always extend the same distance ;
whether we do or do not use the same word to denote this
distance, and the same word to denote thisnumbet of blocks*
Hence we say the relation between this distance and this
number of blocks, is unalterable. But the relations between
many things in nature suffer changes, some of which are un*
known, aud others of which we have no terms to express ;
and more than this, when speaking of these relations, differ*
ent men often use different terms to express the same ideas

press precisely, the several degrees of belief. The word opitiiony
gpncmlly conveys a notion of a degree ol belief somewhat betwesa
ooojectuie and c^Qviction*

2«t

or sentiments ; faencje'arise uncertaintj and disputes coai;erD^
ing these things*

The reason why every body believes that the same antece-
dents will, under the same circumstances, always be foilow-
ed b; the same consequents, is because they never knewr like
antecedents be followed by unlike consequents, under the
same circumstances. Had men frequently, or even once,
seen a candle continue to burn when dipped into water, they
would afterwardsv on being asked if they believe that a can-
dle will be extinguished when dipped iuto water, think (bat
they have seen it*continue to bum in such case ; consequent-
ly (heir belief that it will be extinguished, would not be of
the highest degree. — Instead of thinking over congruous
thoiii^hts relative to the question, they would think what may
be exprpssefl thus : Candles have been extinguished by dip-
ping into water — candles have not been extinguished by dip-
pi ig into water.

Suppose that a man has found by his own experience, as
well as ^y the testimony of others, that a candle just as fre-
quently continues to burn when dipped into water, as to go
out, he would have no belief, one way or the other, about the
question — Will this candle go out if I dip it into water ? He
won Id be opinion neuter as to this question* Still he might
811 J, be believes it will go out, or that it will continue to bum.
— People often express opinions, ahd sometimes adhere to
tho!iie of ^' iVlr. Leadtheflock," when they have none.

Should a man have learnt that candles more frequently go
out when dipped into water than otherwise, he would have
some degree of belief that a candle will now go out if dipped
into the water; and this degree would be below firm convic*
tion, in proportion to the number of times that (as be has
learnt) a Ciindle does not go out, to the number that it does,
when dipped into water ; iu other words, the more frequent-

363

\y (as he ha« learnt) that a candle continues to burn when
dipped into water, the less would be his belief that a candle
will go out on being dipped into water. — The events which
take place within the skull occur according to law and order^
as mtict) as those that occur without ; and every man, learn-
ed or unlearned, would say so, if he could but think how he
thinks at the same time he thinks — he would find that in the
skull the same antecedents are always followed by the same
consequents^ under the same circumstances.

A man^s belief depends as much on the facts which are told,
or which occur to him — depends as much on the thoughts
which he thinks, as the properties of a chemical compound
depend on the kinds and proportions of elements that enter
into it ; and>s a neutral salt may be rendered decidedly acid^
or decidedly alkaline, by the addition of a. little more acid, or
a little more alkali, so a man being opinion neuter, as to any
q>]e:iition, for instance, *' Is the body of Morgan found ?^^ may,
by a little newspaper report, be made to believe one thing to*
day and by an opposite report be made tO' believe the coa*-
trary to-morrow. And we may here add, a|nau^s belief is
nothing distinct from the thoughts which he thinks, any more
than the properties of a body are something distinct from such
body. As these properties constUiUe the body, so do the
thoughts which one thinks constitute his belief — to think over

■

congruods thoughts is to believe. Yet our language, in spite
of our teeth, conveys the sentiment that the properties op a bo^
dy are {something distinct from, or something t>esides the body
ilstlf' and that a man's belief or cof<c/i»ion^ concerning any
thing, is something besides the thoughts, relative to such
thing, which he thinks over, in coming to such conclusion*
Biit we m.tst remember, that a man does not come to a cunclw
^o;i, ex ('()t in a peculiar sense of the expression ; his con-
clusion gocb aloii^ with nun, A we maj so say, and alters ac*

904

wording to ffce thoughts k '<*h occur to Km ; and when h.
Jias thought over all ih I oughts relative to a q jestion, his
conclu«iion may be diffi '^\^ from what it was b* >re be had
thought but a part ; and >i^ last, this ultimate, conclusion, is
what is generally, called the conclusion.

But after all that we can rsay, unless the reader have the
nack of distinguishing betw m\ things and sounds^he will be
haunted with the sentimer « at a an's belief, conchisiont
opinion, conviction, judgmc x«&c. &c. is something distinct
from the thoughts which lea •mh this eljef ; for we must u^e
the very language which is s .|'^'^^'^^^^ ^^ deceive.

Every rational or sensorial )elief supposes a judging pro-
cess, however short it may b . but in 3<tying this, we mean
by the expression jWgmg proc ^ a thi. iingover in close or-
der a chain. of thoughts relativ< > a subject or question, wbe-
tluT these thoughts be incong' c^^^*? «S7* not» But if we mis*
take«not, men would generally understand by a judging pro'
Ctss^ only a process in which o..e thinks over incongruous
thoughts ; and would say that (he r tn ^^ weighs or compares
the facts on bo|h sides of the quest , and decides accoiduig-
]y/' &c. &c. In our sense of th xpression, we hold that
every intuitive belief, supposes a J ng process — supposes
the thinking over of certain coiigru« 'thoughts.

But althou;^h every sensorial t)cli< ' ^uppo^es a judging pro-
cess, still every judginir process does not constitute a belief;
for if the opposing thoughts or testimonies exactly neutralize
or counterbalance each other, the man is ooinion neuter.
But if a man be opinion neuter as to any quest'on, and still be
called upon to give a decision, one way or the other, he can
do, it, haphazard, in word and act ; but he is not the subject
ofthat consciousne^is which congruous thoughts constitute.

Should any one be disponed to maintain that to think over
4 chain of congruous thoughts, is not to believe, will he be so

^6j

x>%ood as to^bow what it is to be <^; and why it is that the
i» verb io b.fieve conveys no idea , what may be conveyed
by the vet i to think? In all case;, .i ^erb to think may be 8»
nsed as to oonvey the same seni s the verb to believe.

What we have said in the for^ <(}art of this chapter concern-
ing consciousness, m ly bo said ^concerning belief. If to be*
lieve and to think certain thor \ts in a certain order, be not
the same, then a man Q,.nnot r^ve the instant be thinks, nof
think the instant he beiieveS) *,i-\

Sensitive Belief. 1'^ belli ^ is natural. A man believes
every thing to be as- his sens testify, if he think of nothing
opposed to such testimony^ ' believes the testimony of one
tense, if this testimoriy be n< J^^tra.iicted by some fact pre^*
vioiisly known to hi <i, or br ). Titestimony of another sense.

If a man's optic nerves ^ . ijid act as they do when he looks
at another man, though no ^ler man be present (a thing .that
often happens in dreaming and delirium) he would believe
that another man is preA'^b*'^ but should he put forth his hands
and/e«/ for this man, ai t»feel nothing, there would be a con-
tradiction between his • ases, and hence no sensitive belief;
for should the man at ' i^th believe (hat no such man is pre-
sent, his belief woutc . ;of the rational species, it would be
the result (as language jmpels us to say) of a judging process
inasmuch as the man 'j^ild think over several thoughts, such,
perhaps, as m^y be expressed thus :-*^' I have heard it said
that a man's optic nerves sometimes act as though he were
looknig at a particular object, though no such object be pre-
sent ; and in «nch case the man as much believes the object
is present as though it really were ; but I never knew that
the sense of leelmg ever so deceived. And as my head has
been disordered for several days, my eyes rather weak withal,
1 guess 1 have not actually seen any man here ; but my e>es

have deceived me."

34

Should a man^s noditorv nerves chance to tici as theyd*
when one is in tlie room talking with him, he would believe
tome one to be present, but on looking round and seeing no
one prefi>ent, nor any possible chance for one to escape so in-
stantly, such belief wouid no longer exist, for there would be
a contradiction between his senses ; and as the ear more fre*
quently deceives than the eye, knowing this, he might, and
probably wouid, even believe that uo man is or just has been
in his room*

If the sense of vision and the sense of feeling should both
testify that an object is present, we believe that all the world
could not convince the per«oi&l lat no such object is present.

It is not to be supposed 4] ht when a man has experienced
an action of one sense, anothfl^c^ense can testify so as to pre*
vent a belief of the man that ^3 has experienced something.
If a.man*s optic nerves should act as when he looks at another
man, although no other man be present, he lielieves he sees
such other man ; but if the sense of feoUog testify that no mau
is present, this belief will be destroyed, but the man will still
believe that he has expciienced something, either a real or
false seeing. — A seeing without impression is a false seeing.

One sense cannot testify that another sense has not acted;
it can only testify that it has acted falsely.

The sense of feeling does, perhaps, less seldom art wilhoat
impression, less seldom deceive, than any other ; hen^e, when*
this sense contradicts such senses as it can contradict, particn*
larly that of vision, the man1>elieves things to be as this sense
testifies.

The reason why a man believes his senses in preference to
all other kinds of testimony, is b<K:ause they so seldom tedti/y
falsely in proportion to the number of times they testify cor*
rectly — in proportion to the number of times that they agpec»
If it were as seldom that a man bean afalse report, — if it were

867

49 impossible for a man f o tell a fafsehood, as it is for the sense
of vision to testify that an object is present^ when the hand
can feel no such object, every man would then believe a re*
port as readily as be believes bis own senses. Several facts
go to prove this statement.

If, owing to disease, any sense have deceived a man a few
times, (which deception a iiane man discovers by the aid of
bis other senses, and by a judging process,) he does not im-
plicitly cnsdit this sense ; he would sooner believe the testi-
mony of his friends. If, in a mad who has been a few timet
deceived by his eyes, a candle should excite the same actions
that two candles do in a healthy man, he would say : — ^* It
seems to me. that there are two candles, but i am not certain,
my eyes sometimes deceive me.'^

When men see objects, a mountain, for instance, which ap»
pear but five miles otT they do not have a high degree of be«
lief that they fire but five mites off, because they know that
by measurement, objects have oAeo beeu found to be farther
off than the eye testifies them to be. A medicine or an arti*
cle of food may taste bitter to a sick man ; but if his attend*
ants tell him that it is not, in its nature, bitter, he believes
that it is not, even if it be something that he never tasted of
while in health. For be believes, or by argument can be
made to believe^ that an article of food or medicine may taste
bhter to a sick man, though it does not to others. These
facts, and some others that might be adduced, tend to show
that the reason why a man so readily believes kU senses^ as the
expression is, is because they so seldom testify falsely, so sel-
dom contradict each other, in proportioa to the nuniber of
times that they agree.

As a sense may testify falsely, it may be asked how we can
know that all our senses do not, at all times, testify falsely ;
bow we can know that any of the external objects really 99*

308

3t, that appear to exist ? We anwver,thatof fhe existence of
external things we can have no higher testimony than that of
the senses ; but when the senses do not disagree, their testi-
mony, is such that no man can disbelieve them if he would,
any more than water can run up bill. — No one can alter the
immutable laws of belief*

Lest the reader should fail o/ (jotting our precise notiona
concerning sensitive belief, being deceived by the expression,
a man believes the testimony of his senses^ and other (ike ex-
pressions which we are obliged to use, — we will here observe,
that we suppose, that to perceive an object^ means as much as
to believe such object exists^ or, to have a belief that such object
exists, — By using diflerent words to express something that
goes OQ in the head, we do not alter this something which
goes on in the head. This remark we consider important,
and wish it might be remembered ; for it is language which
got into use in days of ignorance, that, more than any thing
else, causes men to think that something very mysterious
goes on within the skull. The time will come, however,
when it will be generally admitted, that nothing more or less
occurs, than conscient actions which are, or have been exci-
ted by impressions upon the senses, — speaking with reference
to the conscient or intellectual phenomena only.

From what has been advanced in this work, thus far, we
see that a man is no more culpable or meritorious for believ*
ing whatever l)e does believe, than water is for running down
hill. Every thing takes place according to the immutable
laws of nature, and whatever thinks, is as mnch under the
control of these laws, as water or any thing else. And we
may here observe, that nothing is more absurd and abusive,
nothing more clearly indicates a want of penetration, or a
narrow, selfish, sectarian spirit, and disregard for truth, than
to condemn any one for his belief, it is absurd, because a

S6S

man's belief cannot be altered except by facts and ai^uments ;
degrading epithets, unfriendly treatment, or appaling threats,
cannot change a man's belief — the laws of belief will not ad-
mit of it. It is abusive, because it is punishing a man for
what he does not do with evil intentions, when such punish*
ment can have no good effect. It indicates a want of pene-
tration, for any one who knows that no events take place
without causes, (and who don't know this ?) must be short-
sighted indeed, not to see that one event as necessarily takes
place as another, whether it occur within or without the hu**
man skull ; and that one man is no more to blame for his be*
lief, whatever it may be, than another. It indicates a narrow^
selfish, sectarian spirit, and disregard for truth, because we
never see it in well informed men, who do not so much care
what truth is. as to knmo what it is.

But although we say it is absurd and abusive to condemn a
man for his opinions, we do not say it is so to applaud or
condemn a man for his good or bad deeds. The reason is
obvious : By applauding or condemning men for their deeds,
you may greatly infltience their coi.duct ; — this applaudmg
and condemning are links in the chain of causes which regu-
late human actions ; but facts and arguments are the only ef-
fectual weapons with which you can attack a man's opinions;
and no other ever ought to be used for the purpose. — Let ev-
ery man stand or fall by his good or bad conduct towards his
fellow beings. .

^70

CHAPTER XIX;

On Knowltdge.

As we frequently hear a mnn^s knowledge fpoken of as
though U were something distinct from what stands up in his
library — something which he carries abo'nt in his head ; and
as no one that we know of, has ever clearly defined the
word, we have concluded to give the word a place in our met-
aphydical vocabulary, and devote a short chapter to the con«
sideiation of it.

All the sensorial tendencies possessed by one man consti-
tute the man's knowledge. The word does not signify all the
tendencies that ever have existed in what is called the $afM
man ; for in time some of* the sensorial tendencies undoubt-
edly become entirely extinct, and the man can no more think
those thoughts which these tendencies once enabled him to
think, than if these tendencies had never been produced ; he
is therefore as ignorant, perhaps^ concerning the things to
which these lost tendencies related, as if he had never learnt
any thing about them. We %^y perhaps ^ because a man may
lose part of his knowled;$e concerning a particular subject
or event, but not the whole of it, and of course not be as ig-
norant concerning such subject or event, as though he had
never learnt any thing concerning it. On the other hand, a
man's knowledge comprehends all his sensorial tendencies
that do exist, even if some of these tendencies do not become
operative, do not give rise to action or thought, on a desired
occasion. Thus a man may wish to think, or think ojj anoth-
er man's name, but cannot at the time, and still he may be
said to know the man's name, since there still exists a ten-
dency of bis sensorium to think it, as will be proveid, sbouli

£71

he think it on another occasion, without having seen tt ob
heard it spoken, from the time he wished to ibink it, to the
time he does think it*

Every diifeient impression may excite a different action ia
one's nerves and braiiif producing, of course, a new sensorial
tendency, more or less strong. Hence there are, as it were,
no limits to (he knowledge which a roan may acquire, for the
number of dilTerent impressions that may be made upon his
lenses is inOnite. Nor is this all. —

We may divide the sensorial tendencies into two classes;
one class comprehending the tendencies to act individual ac^
tions, or, if you please, to think individual thoughts ; the other
class comprehending tendencies to think these thoughts in
certain orders — to think them over, one after another, ac-
cording to certain relations which may subsist tietwecn them.
The first class of tendencies are all produced by impressions
upon the senses ; the others, more or less of them, may arise
from mere cogitation* Hence there is a certain kind of
knowledge which the sensorium may be said to acquire by its
own exercise, without the immediate agency of nerves. The
first tendencies may be called primitive Undencits^ or tenden^
ties from impressions ; the second, teronctary, or relative teip'
dencies^ or tendencies from cogitation. The reader already
knows that the first sort of tendencies give rise to thone ac*
tions which constitute what we call ideas. Many of the secon**
dary tendencies are tendencies to think over in connexion,
certain congruous ideas, constituting what may, properly
enoughs be called a sentiment.

For illustration — I think, 1 believe, or, it is an opinion or
ientimint of mine, that calomel and opium will cure inflamma"
Hon» Now it must be that several ide^s occurring together
constitute this sentiment ; — it cannot be any one idea, in the
sense in which we use the word idea ; but why do they occur

272

together f U it not because that whatever thinks, is disposed
to think them thus ? — I now purpose to inquire what ideas oc-
curring together, constitute this sentiment ; and wh^ they
constitute what is as properly called a 6e/t«/*as a sentiment.

By an observation made in two or three separate places in
this work, the reader might team, if his own efforts did not
convince him, that it is not a very easy matter for me to de-
termine what are my own ideas that generally occur, when 1
think what 1 express by these words : — Calomel and- opkan
Will cure inflammation / and much less can I take it upon me
to say what ideas occurring in others, constitute this senti-
ment But before I ^peak for m\self, I will venture to say
this much for others, at different times difierent ideas may oc-
cur and constitute what they call a thinking, or opinion, that
calomel and opium idHI cure inflammation* Now for myself*
For several days, whenever I chanced to think of it, I have been
trying to catch myself in the ver} act of thinking calomel and
opium will cure ivflammation^ and t^o far as I can determine I
finti that sometimes 1 have ideas of a white powder, a mass of
opium, and the written word inflammation ; sometimes optical
notions of all the important words in the sentence — the great
round O to the left of the little;?,, appears very conspicuous
to my " minds eye," At other times I have ideas of calomel
and opium, and of a red spot somewhere upon a man, fading
away ; that is, growing less red, and the extent of it diminish-
ing — the edges gathering in like the edges of that moist sur-
face which one makes when he hroatliea upon a polished ra-
zor, thinking to determine in this way whether the razor be
properly tempered. This idea of a red surface fading away,
I think answers very well to the clause cure inflammation.
Sometimes I have ideas of one of these saddU^ba^s men in a
house at the bed side of a patient/widi some small white pilU
lying upon a table or caudle staiid. Such are some of the

275

ideas whioh T find I have when I endeavor to determine what
ideas constitute the sentiment, that calomtl and opium wilt
tare inflammation.^ But the same fact may be expressed in
other vrords, as follows : — A man has a red, swollen, painfu.
face, foul tongue, quick pulse — in short, an inflammation of the
face ; the physician gives him calomel and opium ; these symp-
toms disappear — such iustances frequently happen — if no
medicine be given it has been found that such inflammations
generally termihate fatally. All this is much as to say, ea/o-
mtl and opittm cure inflammations^ and to think over these
facts, is to think that calomel and opium cure inflammations.
But why does this thinking constitute a belief that calomel and
opium cure inflammations? It is because the thoughts are
congruous — they are not connected with other thoughts that
would be expressed by contrary terms — the man does not
think of any fact opposed to the factor proposition, that calo^
mel and opium cure inflammaiion. It is true, he may think of
patients that died with inflammation, who took calomel and
opium ; but this is not opposed to the propositioR that, calo-
mel and opium cure inflammation — it is only opposed to the
position that calomel and opium always cure inflammation, a
position which no man believes.

There may be some dis^reement among men about the
use of the word sentiment ; — some may use it in such a broad
sense as to include all the grand ultimate coitclusions to
which a man may arrive ; but it would be convenient if there
were some teim universally agreed on, to denote those minor

* Since the above was put in (>'P^) ^ have become satisfied
that those audinl actions excited in my seuaorium, (not iu my audi-
tory nerves and eensorium,) when I liear it said that eahmet and
Opium rn!t cure ittflammation, are amoiifr the sensorial actions
that coii«ititute thi* sentiment ejpresstd by— ca/onte/ attd opium
will cure infiaminatUm.

d5

274

oonciasions or principles, wbicb occur to an old, learned
thinker when he is said to generalize.

Knowledge, then, is of two kinds, primitive and secondary.
The first is acquired by the direct exercise of the senses ;
the secondary arises from that exercise of the seusorium to
which primitive knowledge gives rise.
^ The more we investigate the intellectual phjenomena, the
more firmly are we convinced that the mystery which is so
generally supposed to hang about them, is chiefly owing to the
language to which false notions long ago gave rise, and which,
more or less of it, we are still under the necessity of using.-*
We speak of a man's belief, faith, judgments, sentiments, con-
elusions, doctrines and principleti, which words are in them*
selves as difTerent from each other, as the words stone and
steam ; and one can scarcely believe that, so far as it re-
spects any thing which exists or goes on in the head, all these
words mean one and the same thing* When we speak ahoat
comparing ideas, and distinguishing differences between themi
one is natijirally led to suppose that we mean something more
than mercFy having these ideas occur in immediate succession.
When we say a man substitutes an idea uf one thing for an
idea of another, one would not suppose that this substituting
consists in nothing other than in having an idea of one thing,
in connexion with an idea of the name of another thing.
Arid when we say a man believes the testimony of his senses,
who at first thought, would suppose that, to have perceptions,
means as much ? But let the reader lay aside all language
and, disregarding the speculations of others, consider what
goes on in his own head. He will find, that, putting aside
perceptions and sensations, nothing more at any time occurs
than ideas of objects (among which are written wordi$) sounds
flavors, odors, and feelings, one adler another.

What of myslery concerning the intellectual phenomena,

375

is not owiog to our present bad language, is owing to our be-
ing unable to observe what goes on in us, when we remember,
judge, &ۥ at the very instant we remember or judge : all
things without continue to exist the same, when we examine
them, as when we do not examine them^ but the momenta
man undertakes to examine a judging process, that very mo*
ment does the judging process cease, or go on dififerently
from what it does when a man is not paying attention to it*
It is not mysterious that sensibility should arise from the or*
ganic union of insensible atoms, or that a sensation or per*
ception should be excited in the nervous system when it
possesses sensibility. If it be, then every thing in nature
is mysterious ; it is mysterious that acidity should arise from
the chemical union of non-acid atoms, and that a liquid pos*'
sessing the property of acidity should change a vegetable
blue color to red ; and mysterious that one body sbouU
move an other by impulse.'

CHAPTER XX.
On PersoTial Identity^

The word, identity means sameness ; and the term, penonr
al identity^ means same person* But almost every body in
nature is continually suffering some kind of change: apiece
of gold wrapped in dry paper and laid away in a tight box is
continually undergoing a change of relation with the heavenly
bodies, and with every thing that moves upon the face of the
globe. When even an individual particle of matter is added
too or taken from any body, such body suffers a change, — it
suffers a change even when a few of its own particles change

«7e

thefr relations with each other* It follows, then, tiiat there
are but few if any bodies in existence to day, which are, in
the most strict and absolute sense of the term, the s^me bod«
ies that existed yesterday. But notwithstanding this, men
Say of bodies that exist to day, they are the tame bodies which
existed five, ten, fifty or an hundred yc.rs ago, unless these
bodies have undergone very great, perhaps we may say, total
changes. Therefore when we inquire w;.jthera body which
iexists to day, be the same body which existed yesterday, we
do not so much regard the changes which it may have under*
gone since yesterday, as the changes whic;^ it has not under-
gone ; and yet men have not agreed what changes any body
must not undergo, that it may still be called the same body.
But it will generally be admitted that John 3rown who is the
Jirst son of a certain Caleb Brown, is the same man that was
called John Brown and that bore this peculiar relaiunito said
Caleb Brown ten years ago, let him have undergone what
changes he may since that time. If this be . 'mitted, it fol-
lows, that all that is necesssary, in order (hat a man who exists
to day may be to the world around the same man that existed
ten yeans ago, is, that he be known to the world around, as the
man who bore a certain peculiar relation io something else,
ten years ago, — a relation which no other being but this
could or ever can bear to this same something elee.

But the grand question, relative to personal identity, about
Which philosophers have been so much puzzled, ts not what
constitutes the same man to the world around : there is no
hfiore diflScoIty about this than there is about what constitutes
the same tree, house, or jacknife. The grand question is,
what constitutes the same man as it respects himself— what
tonstitntes the same thinking man ? By which we mean
Inucfh the same that Professor Brown does by " mental idtn-
%.^ We answer at once \—\he same sensorial ttndmcies.

t77

^he proof is clear. Take from my brain or sensorium its

Present tendencies^ and I should think not at all ; but give it

'"^he tendencies of John Brown's brain, Sind 1 should then

ii'liink, believe, remember, judge, imagine, &c« precisely as

'iohn Brown now does ^t may think, believe, &c. 1 should

^believe that my name i^yohn Brovm^ niyfalhtr^s name is Ca^^

leb Brozon^ lam Aw Jirst son^ I was bom at Troy^ where my

father now lives, — IhQt^farm which I own in J^Tassau ought to

'kring me 5000 dollar s-^-^I once stole a turkey of a man in dill,

io short, I should thi^k of every thing, and believe every

thing, just as John iM'own now thinks and believes, or may

believe ; and nothing is more clear than that I should be John

Brown, so far as it respects the thinking man, to all intents

and purposes. i

Suppose, now, that John Brown knows me, my family, my
houae, &c. and suppose that I receive, not hrs tendencies, but
tendencies precisely like his, while abed and asleep at home :
when I awake, I iPigin to thmk precisely as the other John
Brown would had he been brought in his sle^p and put in my
place. 1 should, on looking around^ think that I had slept
very soundly, alnd that while sleeping, some trickish fellow
bad taken me but of my [John Brown's] hou^e, and put me
to bed in C. K's house along with his wife. I should laugh
at the trick, bnt retaining my [C. K's.] present looks, this
wife would wor^der what 1 was laughing at. I should enter
into such conversation with her, that she would be satisfied
that 1 was either crazy, or else had a peculiar faculty* of talk*
ing as though I were somebody besides C. K. But i, on the
other hand, should be surprised that she should take tne to
be C. K. and not John Brown. She might, perhaps, say to
D)e : look in the glass, and you will see that you are the same
C. K. that you was yesterday. Should I then look in the
glass, 1 should be exceedingly astouiaiied ; for 1 sliould iind

5^78

th»t my looks h»d undei^one such a change that I now look
precisely like C. K. *, (foi^ hy gupposition, John Brown knows
how I [C. K.] look ; but notwithstanding this, the world
could no more convince me that I am not John Brown, than
it can now convince me that I am not Charles Knowltpn. I
should know that I am John Brown, every thing else to the
contrary notwithstanding. 1 should soon be making towards
my home, from whence I was brought, (by some supernatural
power, probably, since nothing short of such could have so
changed my looks,) and if, on arriving there, the other John
Brown should be at home, a warm contention would soon
arise about 'rights and property ; i should own to him that he
looks just as I did before my looks were changed, but tell him
that I did not expect he would think to claim my wife, my
children, and my property, on this account. Some might
consider me crazy in respect to this one thing, — taking my
self to be John Brovin^ — although I might appear as rational
in every other re^^pect, as any other man ; but many, (if they
were imm^terialists,) and especially the other John Brown,
would take me to be Charles Knowlton, inhabited by anothtr
supernalural siirit ; for this John Brown would find that 1
comUI tell him of every place he ever had been in, of every
deed he had ever done, and of every thought and intention of
his ^^ heart,^^ ju^t as well as he could tell them himself. — I
even doubt if he would not give up his whole estate to me, if
1 insisted on his doing so, as I probably should, knowing that it
all belonged to me.

But if Uother John Brown, instead of retaining his old sen-
sorial tendencies, should loose them all, and receive C. K^s
on the same|night that C. K. receives his, then the new John
Brovrn on going to his homC| would probably meet the
new C. K* going to his home, — both equally astonished at
havu*g been carried off in the night, and at having their looks

«79

70 changed. The world would take both to be insane, but
both would be as confident that they are not, as any man is
that he is not insane ; and there would be no contentions
between them, about property and privileges.

Let us suppose that I, Charles Knowlton, not only swop
sensorial tendencies with John Brown, but that my body be
so remodelled as to look precisely like John Brown, and John
Brown so remodelled as to look like me. I should then be
coQvei-ted into John Brown, and the present John Brown
would become Charles Knowlton, not only as it respects the
thinking man, but as it respects the world around^ or the world's
man. Hence we sec that the particles of matter which coo^*
pose a man, have nothing to do with his identity, in any im-
portant sense of the term ; and at the day of resurrection^ or
ratherof reorganization, It will matter not what particles of
matter we shall be composed of, any more than it now con-
cerns us whether our bodies are composed of the matter of
the bread, meat, butter and cheese of Vermont, or of the fish,
rice, and fruits of a southern climate. All that will be ueces-
s:\ry to constitute the same man, to all intents and purposes^
will be to hnve the same looking body organized out of any
matter, possessing the same sensorial tendencies.

As a man may undergo great changes in his looks, and still
be the same man to the world around, so m^y he undergo
great changes in his sensorial tendencies, and still be the
same man to himself; — he may forget m>ich, [outgrow many
tendencies] and he m ly learn much, [acq'iire many new ten-
dencies,] and still know, believe, or be conscious that he is
the«>Rmejnan.

We would not undertake to determine what tendencies
mn^t be retained in order to give rise to those thoughts which
co^^titi)te one's belief that he is the same man; we think,
however, that they are very few ; perhaps no more than

280

enough to giv'e rii^ to a remembering of his name, of his pa-
rente, aud of some one thing that he has done*

It may be asked, if it be not naturally possible for two per*
sons to acquire precisely the same tendencies, and of course
be precisely alike as it respects themselves. We answer, no.
If two children be organized precisely alike, and bom at the
same time and place, and called by the same name, it would
be impossible for them to acquire the same sensorial tenden-
cies ; for they could noi both be in the same place, and in the
same relation to each other and things around at all times;
hence, precisely the same impressions could not be made
upon their senses at the same time, and merely on this ac-
count, they may in time become quite difif^rent men as it re-
spect? the sisggesting principle^ whi':h term I think 1 may now
li?e, without hein^mifiuudemood.

After all that we have said about sensorial tendencies, it
may be said that their existence is purely hypothetical. We
grant it« — 30 is the diurnal revolution of the earth hypotheti-
cal. We are not immediately conscious of any motion of
the earth ; but the supposition that it does move enables us
to explain many astronomical phenomena ; and the supposi-
tion of the senfiorial tendencies enables us to explain many
physioloi^ical or conscient phenomena ; and there is nothing
opposed to either supposition. There is a great d.jOference be-
tween a supposition which enables us to explain many phe-
nomena, and one which affords no such aid, but on the con-
trary renders such phenomena ten times more complicated,
mysterious, and inromprehensible. If such supposition be
not directly contradicted by any one fact, still it is contradict-
ed, — it is contradicted by the simplicity of nature, and the
soundest principles of philosophy.

We cannot close this chapter without adverting to the'

981

f peculations of professor Brown concerning personal identi-
ty ; or as he chooses to term it, mental identity. He admits
that the expression, same matij is generally considered to
mean something more than same mind ; he says, however,
but little concerning corporeal identity, or the identity of a*
maa to the world aroutul ; but he writes about fifty, full, oc-
tavo pages to establish his notions concerning mental identi-
ty : a fact which, of itself, argues much Against his opinions.
His most important positions concemiug mental, identity, are
the two following : —

First. Mental identity consists in the ''unity and sameness
of that which (hinks and feels,'' independent of all the endless
variety of its transient states or changes — independent of ail
thoughts and sensations.* Second. A man's 6Wt>/that he
is the same man, ^'arises from a lav> of ihoughi^^ which l$kw
is ''a principle of intuitive belief ;-— as it were, an internal
never-ceasing voice from the Creator and preserver of our
being — an internal revelation from on high, — too important
to be left to the casual discovery of reason." ! ! |

We see that according to professor Brown, personal, or
mental identity, consists in that which makes no difierence
between men — in that which (if it exist) is the same in all
men, for aught any one can say to the contrary. He places
it in an indivisible, unextended (no-) thing ; fur such is what he
means by ^' that whuh thinks andjeels;'*^ — he places it in such
thing, independent of all the states it may chance to be in, in-
dependent of all thoughts, feelings, and beliefs. Hence it fol-
lows that if John Brown, mentioned a few pages back, should
be this night annihilated, and I should be carried to, and put in
his bed, with my body so remodelled as to look precisely like

*Sef his '^Philoiophy olthe tiuniau MiiiU," vol, i. p. !&:>:, P«iil-
tdelphta Edit. 1624.
{Seepages 16U,aud 163. lb.

3a •

282

said' John Brown, and my taidendts to thinks my store of ^latent
ideas^''^ (if any body can tell what a latent idea is, and how
they can he stored away in an unextended mindO or mj
knowledge (if the immaterialisfd can tell U9 what knowledge
is) so changed that I should think, believe &c. precisely as
the present John Brown does or would, — of course, as firmly
believe myself to be John Brown as lie now does, still I
should be the same thinking, the same me7</a/ Charles Knowl-
ton that I now am ! This is what I say would he the case, ac*
cording to professor Brown^s doctrine ; for the same mind
(the thing in which he places my identity) which he supposes
to have been in me, when an infant, and when asleep, would
still be in me, and constitute the very me, myself*

Concerning Professor Brown's second position, that ^^ The '
]^r/te/'of identity of self, as the one permanent subject of the
* transient feelings remembered by us, arises from a law of
ihotight^^^ it appears unnecessary to say much*

I presume it will he admitted that a law of thought is a law
of nature, and a universal law ; huf I may observe that there
is no law of thought in me, which gives rise to ^' the belief of
the identity of self, as one permanent subject of the transient
feelings remembered by me/' To be sure, I believe that I
am the same man that did a certain act, felt a certain pain,
er came to a certain conclusion, at some former period ; but
I believe it, in the common sense of the word same — in that
sense in which I use it, when i say, — the horse in my stable
is the same that I bought four years ago, i do not believe
that 1 am one permanent subject of the thoughts and actions,
said to be the thoughts and actions of Charles Knowlton. —
By the pronouns /, me, and myse(f, I always mean tt)at visi-
ble, extended being called Charles Knowlton. I neVcr have,
in using these words, the least reference to an unextended
thing in my brain, which thing no muu cau ever have any idea

283

tf« Ifonr present bad language somptime^ leaves me nnder
the necessity of using the pronouns /, mystify &c. as though
thejf meant something distinct from the Charles Knowllon bo"
dify still I do not mea^ so. Neither do I have reference to mjr
sensorium, any more than any other part of my body, unless i
specify this part, or speak in particular reference to it.-—
fVtien in common conversation, 1 say I walked to Troy, I do
Dot mean, more especially, that my legs walked to Troy ;
and when I say I think, I do not mean, more especially, my
sensoriutn thinks, unless I am upon some metaphysical sub-
ject. But although, by the pronouns I, me, and myself, I
mean an extended being, still, if a part of this being should
be remofedf the part which retained the sensorium firoold
still call itself, /, fnyself^ &c. What more convenient language
could it use ? Now 1 believe that the being called Charles
Kctowlton, that is, I, myself, is, like every thing else in naturei
contmually undergoing changes, and is not a permanent sub-
ject. But until we have a different language, and until I have
different sensorial tendencies: 1 shall continue to call myself,
and believe myself to be,*the same Charles Knowltoo that
did certain things ten years ago. — Certain tendencies of my
sensorium give rise to such thoughts asconstitute such belief;
but loAy, in any ease, coni^^ruous thoughts occurring together
constitute a belief, I can as well tell, and no better, as I can
why oxygen and hydrogen chemically united in certain pro-
portions, constitute water. You may say that such is a law
of thought, or a law of nature, or, what is the same thing, that
it IS one of those ultimate and universal facts, of which there
is no explanation to be given, and of which none but the igno*
rant will ask for ao explanation.

Now when Brown says that a man's belief of his identity
arises from a law of thought, and says no more than this,
we do not object to the expression ; but it is the same law ef

1284

thoasjht, on account of which, we believe that four and foor
are equal to eight ; that a candle will cease to burn when
you dip it into water ; the same law of thought, from which
arises a lower degree of belief that there will be some snow
next winter, and from which arises a slill bwer degree of be-
lief, that we shall have sonnie rain within three weeks. There
is not a particular law of belief for every particular behef
which we have — there is but one law of belief : those belief:;
called intuitive are such as they are, becau;«e they consist of
thoughts that are /?er/«c//^ congruous; there is not a single
contradictory thought united with them ; they relate to things
concerning which there is not the least contradiction of any
kind.

We may further remark, concerning Professor Brown's
speculations, that, according to his test of identity^ ice and
caloric arc pt ectsely the same thing as the steam made out of
ihis ice and caloric ; and certain bodies of oxygen, hydro-
gen, and sulphur, are the same thing as the oil of vitriol that
may afterwards be made out of them, they being the same
suK'itancerxistinj^ in a difFcrent state. So. too, a ball of wax,
and the image of a man made out of this wax. are the aame
thing. Rather a strange perversion of language this, to say
no more.

From what has been said in this and the preceding chap-
ter, if appears tlrat what constitutes a man's knowledge, is
the same as that which constitutes his identity, a* i7 respects
himself. — that to he the san'ie thiitking mnn, is to be a man of
the same knowledge. But the whole of that which consti-
tnte^s imoard idenf it} is not concerned in giving rise to one's
belief that he is the sanie man to-day that did a certain deed
yesterday. Hence a man's knowledge may increase or <^e-
crease (if he do not lose a certain part of it,) and his belief of

286 ^

bis identity remain the same, it being neither increased or di-
minished.

No one will think to object to our doctrine of identity^ by
Baying we place it in something which does not permanently
remain the same absohiteTy. To say this, would be4o speak
in commendation of it, since we know that the inner, or think-
ing man, undei^oes even greater changes, from^ infancy to
manhood, than the outer, or world^s man.

Should we be asked why we say of a thing to-day, t7 is the
SAME that it was yesterday^ wtien it has suflered some change
since yesterday, we should answer, — -it is for conveniefice
sake. If men would not agree to use the word same except
in its most absolute sense, they would not only have very lit-
tle use for it, but the woHd*^could not hold a dictionary big
enough to contain a name for ervery different body which has
been, is, and will be in existence, if we should say, the instant
any body suffers the least degree of change, it is no longer
the same, but a different body. — If anj man will show us nny
thing which suffers no change, will show us absolute identity,
and make such a dictionary, to boot, we will agree not to say
of*a«y thing to-day, it ia the same it was yesterday, provided
it have undei^one the hast change.

•00-

CHAPTER XXI.

On Volition*

That the reader may come to this subject, prepared to
judge correctly of the opinions we are about to advance, it is
necessary that he have a sincere'love of the simple truth of
nature ; and that be have no interest iu the mysterious and

286

tompltcated dogmas of the schools. That be free' himself as
much as possible from the iiiflueuce of our very objeciionabia
language, so as not to be deceived by such as the writer mnj
be under the nece^sitj of using. He must haVe correct no--
tions of cause and efiect, — he must remember that a cause
is nothing more than an eVent which is immediately and vxca^
riably followed bj a certain oth^r event, under the same cir-
cumstances, — and indeed we often use the word when it can-
not be said to mean so niurh as this, unless we give the word
tventy a broader meaning than ''*an agent acting ;'' — but he
must not suppose that the succeeding event never does aod
never can occur, except it be immediatelj preceded by one
and the same event : — The body A may stiike the bod} B,
and this body may move a certain distance in a certain di-
rection. This is an event caused (immediately preceded)
by the stroke of the body, A \ biit the body X may be brought
pretty near the body B, and by attraction cause it to move
the same distance and in the same direction that it did when
impulsed by the body A. Here then, are two like invents, or
the same event occurring twice, from different causes. It is
necessary, also, that the reader be aware, that it is ju^ea
natural for matter to act, be it in what state it may, as^lfts
for it not to act ; — that, being at rest, it never moves pr acts
without cause, and being in action, it never rests or ceases
to act witliout cause. An internal action going on in any
organ^no more ceases to go on without some cause for its ceas*
ing, than a cannon ball ceases to move without a cause, after
being forced from the mouth of a cannon : — some change,
some wear and tear, must take place in the organ, from its
own action ; or some alteration in the kind and quantity of
fluids flowing to and from' the organ, must take place ; or
some other action must take place in the same precise organ,
•r some oi^an connected with it, whtch must, according to.

287

the taws of nature^ be followed bj a cessation of tbe action,
which ccHses.

In trealiug of the relation between the nervous and muscu-
lar systems, we come to the conclusion- thai the immediate
antecedent or cause of voluntary contractions, is an action
commencing in the brain and extending along the nerves into
the voluntary muscles* This action of the nervous system is
an unconscious action, and we call it the motive action of tbe
nervous system.

We . are of opinion that this action does not commence in
the sensorium, or that part of the brain in which conscient
actions occur; but in a contiguous part — perhaps in the ce*
rebral extremities of nervous tibrils, of a different organization
than those which take on conscient actions ; and is excited,
caused, or more properly, is immediately preceded by certain
conscient actions of the sensorium,just as any other effect is
immediatdy preceded by its cause.

The relation between the conscient actions of the sensori-*
am, and the motive actions of the brain, may be illustrated
by the relation which subsists between a master and his ser-
vant. The master and the servant n^ay act independent of
each other ; yet when the master commands, do this — do that
— go on — stop^ the servant obeys ; but the master is not con-
trolled by the servant. So the conscient ai.d motive actions
may even commence^ and continue, independent of each oth-
er ; yet the motive actions (unless they are unruly, as in epi-
lepsy, tetanus, &c.) commence, vary, and slop at the com-
mand of the conscient actions ; that is, they commence, vary,
and stop, according to those conscient actions of the senso-
rium. which occur. But the motive actions do not govern
the conscient actions, that is, it is not a fact, a universal fact,
or law, that when such and such motive actions occur, such

288

and fiuch conscient actions or thoughts follow as a necessaiy
consequence.

Again, a? the servant may be set to work hy the master, ^tld
afterwaids continue to work independent of the master, in the
same way as directed, until again dictated by the master, or
until exhaujsled — at which time he* can work no more if com-
manded ever so urgently ; — so the motive actions, having
been excited by the copsrient actions, may contmue to go oa
as at first, independent of the conscient actions, until varied or
stopped by the couscient actions, or until some change, some
wear and tear, takes place in the brain, inconsistent with
their further continuance, at which time a man may desire to
move ever so much, but he cannot.

For further illustration : — Certain conscient actions or
thought? occur in me, which constitute a desire to walk to
the 6rid|ge.*— certain motive actions of the brain imnnedi-
ately set in, (as it is a law of volition that they should.) and
certain muscular contractions immediately follow, and I
walk along, step after step, as I set out, without any further
thinking about it, — I go trudging; along in the same pace, cog*
itating about some subject, as foreign to my walking as any
thing can be ; but the moment I quicken my step, turn my
course, or stop, you ma) know that a thought has occurred
relative to my walking-r-you may know that the master has
given a new command to the servant.

Although the conscient and motive actions of the brain are

* We shall invariiibly mil thosf* conscient actions which imme*
dintely precede the motive actions, (which motive HCtinns immedi-
ately precede voluntary contrHctioris or imitions,) a desire : but
like belief, this desire may be of h high f»r low decree, h may, in
many iastances be of such low degree as not to constitute such
Consciousness as would genet aPv be crilled denire. — We innsl be
permitted to have a hint>nage to express our «enrifiients, if it beat
the expense ot coiuiug a lew new v^urd^t, and aheriug a lew old
oues.

•

Essentially different, si\n there is a strkmg anaYr>cryhetweet|
the ultimate facts that relate to them. The conscieut actions
must, in the first place, be excited by impressione upon the
sen.^es, after this they may recur on certain occasiftns without
the reapplication of the impressions which first excited them^
or they may be re-excited b) the same impressions ; so the
motive actions must, in the first place, be excited or caused,
and aAerwards they may recur on certain occasions without
being immediately preceded by that which first caused them*
And as the conscient actions of the sensorium may be excited
by various impressions through the medium oAat least five
modifications of nerves, so the motive actions may be excited
by difTerent causes, that is, they may be the consequents of dif«
ferent antecedents* The ordinary antecedents of the motive
actions are the conscient actioira of the veniiorium ; next te
iiw^e are actions commencing in various parts of the body^
and extending to the brain, some of which are conscient and
o'hers unconscient« Other causes of the motive actions of the
brain we would express by the rather loose but convenient
phrase of morbid affections of the braio itself, fis in some ca«
SV9 of epilepsy,

But the motive artioRs of tlie brain most be excited manjf
more times, by ttie cause whicti first excites them, than the
conscient actions, before suc-h n tendency to their recurrence
is produced that they mt^y recur on what we call occasions^
A man need see an elephant but very few times, before the ac*
tiont>f his, ^en^ormm, excited by seeing the elephant, may re-
cur wtien the elephant is absent — before tbe man may have a
real idea of the elephant ; but when a child begins to walk, or
a man begins to dance, the conscient actions must excite the
motive a great many times, before the child can walk, or the
man dance, without -hii/king any thing about it*

We will now show what we meau by occasions^ as above

/ 37

490

•

H9ed« When one thought succeeds another on nccount ot
Bome relation between them, we say that the. thought which
precedes, is the occasion of the thought which succeeds* With
respect to the motive actions, we cannot, in few words, show
distinctly what we mean, when we say that they occur on
occasions : we must suppose a case — Suppose that I have
performed a dozen different actions in immediate succcsssion,
a thousand times or more ; now if a desire excite that motive
action of the brain that coi responds to the first of this dozen
actions, and then I think of something quite foreign to these
actions, the remaining eleven imay still follow ; and if so. we
should say that one motive action of the brain is the occasion
-%{ that other which immediately succeeds it*

When we say that one thought, or one motive action of the
Jbrain, is the occasioa of anoiher, we do not mean that such
thoughts and such actions are not, as truly and as really, cau-
ses of the thoughts and actions which succeed them, as im-
pressions upon the senses are causes of sensations and per-
ceptions* But these causes or antecedents are different from
the antecedents of these thoughts and actions, t/ujirst time or
times ihe^ occurred ^ on this account, and for sound's bake,
we call them occasions* Indeed, considering the notions gen-
erally annexed to the word cause, and to the word occasion^
we think it would always bf more coirect to say that one
event is the occasion of another, than to say that one event is
the cause of another*

One grand reason why men so generally believe that all
the motions of their voluntary organs, even thf* most familiar,
are excited by cofiscient actions, or to use a common, but ve-
ry mischievous word, by the " wi7/," is undoubtedly this :
All motions which we perform when we are experimenting
with ourselves, to determine whether they ht to or not, cer-
tainly are thus excited \ of course, instead of coming directly

291

mt the trnth in this way, our experimenting only aerve^ t^
carifirm us iu error* But let a man who is trudging onward,
musing on his wordly plots, stop of a sudden, and think whe*
ther he have been willing, desiring, or thinking something re-
lative to, every slep which he has taken for miles back*

It would be absurd to say that he has, but was not conscious
of it at the time, for to will is but to think,. and to think is to
be consciou8-*-to say that a man wills or desires any thing,
and IS not conscious of it at the time, is a downright contra*
diction. And as tor saying that a man wills every step which
betakes, while thinking of something quite foreign to hit.
walking, hut cannot afterwards remember it, it would be say*
iiig something which no man can ever prove to be true, but,
which we have the following good reasous for believing to be
false.

First. It is strange indeed, if certain thoughts or conscient .
actions do occur several thousand times within an hour of
two, and cannot recur at the end of this time, so cpniiected
with other thoughts, as altogether to constitute a remember*
ing that these certain thoughts have occured within this time— »
strange. I say, since it so often happens that a conscient ac*
tion of the sensonum, having occurred two or three times to*
day, may recur a week hence without impression.

Seco.id. When conscient actions do actually excite motivg
ones, we can remember it ; — we must add, sometimes^ and not
add always^ — lest it be said that we beg the question. But
this every man will own, when he performs any new orun* '
common act, or even when he quickens his pace while walk«
iog, he can afterwards remember that he thought something
about it — that he willed it, and well may he wonder that he
cannot remember that he willed bis most common actions, if
he do indeed will them all.

Tuird. I'iiilosopherd of every class admit that whatever

8^

lliinks ean think but one tbo;jght or act hot one nction at a*
time ; neither can they dootiierwise than admit, that to will^
9b the expression is, is to think, as much as to guess, to juUgei
or to cogitate: — they must admit, that wiihng supposes ao
art, t>r actions of that 'which thinks. Now as a waJking man
is all the time putting ' e leg before (he other, where ^s ihe
time for him to li|}' plots, and judge about matters and things,
if every step must be preceded by a certa.n act of that which
lays plots and judges? How is it that a man writes, and rea*
sous within himsetf at tht same time, if both these processes
auppo&e different trains of actions of that which thinks but
one thought or acts but one action at a time 2 fVe say that
Tirhen a reasoning man is writing, every particular letter
%hlch he makes is not immediately pretxded by a particular
desire or witling to make such letler ; but this is what we sup*
pose takes place : — we suppose that when a man first learns
to write, first begins to make letters, he has a particular
thought, will, or desire, to make each and every letter which
he does make ; aiiu that when he first begins to write words,
be attends to the writing of each word. But after long pntc-
t'ce, his writing machine geU so habituated to writing the let-
ters of words in a proper order, that it needs only one touch
of his thinking part to put it in motion, and it will write a
whoje word while this thinking part is engaged in a reasoning
process.* After still longer practice in writing, the thinking
part may think over a whole sentence, and givingthe wnti g
p'nrt one commard to write it, it is done, even if ihe master

* Besides other evidence uf the above opinion, the following may
be mentioned : When a man is in the habit of writii.g a word
If rong. he will conrinue to wiite it wrong, if he do not attend to tV,
after he knows that he is in such habit ;— he will continue to do 9q
antil begets in the habit of writing it correctly. Many tind mnny
a time has the present writer writtea the ivord doctriots^ doclrings^
tfitr he knew b«t4«r.

>.

hirn Awny <o M>me other busline*?, as he often docs after ht

li.i> SOI liie. TBulking machine mhiiiTniion, According lo

tlie principles of immaterialism, it caiiiiot be that a man wills,
ft. d judges or imai^inen, at the same time ; if willing and jiidg-
ii ^ are not the same thing. And we, even we, do not believe
ti:at he does, although our leading pri'U:iples are as il<iii rent
from thoseof immaterialihmastrulli ip from error ; and woiilj
more easily admit of the snppo<»ition that a man may will or
desire at the same tim; that some r^her intellectual process
is ^oing on. But to return.—

Fourth. The motions of the ribs and diaphragm (organs
concerned in breathing*) may be accelerated, retarded, or for
a tune huppressed, by a des're ; hence the diaphragm, and the
muscles that elevate the ribs, may as properly be railed vol-
untary a^ any other ; but in a steeping state, (we do not ^aJ
a ilreamir)g state,) a state in which it would be a whun lO i^aj
that conscient actions of the sensorium occur, we continue
to breath. Now if the motive actions of the brain occur^m
fleep, without being immediately preceded 'by conscient ac-
tions, why may they not do so in a waking state ?

Why should it be difficult for men to admit that the motive
actions of the brain may occur^ or rather recur, on occanons^
i. e. without being preceded by the same antecedents which
p\eceded them when they first occurred; since they must
and will admit that the conscient actions do thus occur ?

We have now been endeavoring to show that the motive
actions immediately succeed some of the co.'iscient actions of
the sensorium, (which actions, to distinguii^h them trom oth«
ers, we say constitute desires or williiigs.) as subsequents or
cffectt of such actions ; and furthermore, thaf\he motive ac-
tions may, after much practice, recur on occasions, as well as
the conscient* But every conscient action or thonght is not
succeeded by a motive action — we afe not always muvin^

1

294

when we are thinking ; and the question now is : What con*
icient actions do the motive ones follow ; or, rs we will put it,
when do they follow ? It may be said that\vhen a man is at a
tavern, and those thoughts occur in him which constitute a
desire to go home, he gets up and goes home. This is very
plain aud satisfactory ; but if the man also have a desire to
stay and hear the end of a story, what then ? — We proceed
to answer this question. We suppose that there is some cause,
in every case, for a man to be doing whatever he is doing,
whether he be sitting, standing, walking, or whatever else
you may mention ; and such cause is either mechanical force,
or a desire of his own* We hold, too. that whatever a man be
doing, this will he continue to do, until there be some cause
for his CI asing, either that he get tired oui, or stopped by me-
chanical force, or until he have a greater desire to do some-
thing else, than to do what he is doing. If a man have a de-
tire to do one thing, and a desire to do another thing, both
which things he cannot do, or cannot do at the same time,
he nets agieeabie to the predominant desire ; but if the two
desires exactly equals counterbalance, or neutralize each other,
he arts according to i;either, except one of the desires be to
do, or kee|) doing what he is doing; in this case he keeps do-
ing so. These are ultimate and universal facts, or laws of
volition ; and there is no mystery about them, unless it be
ni}sferions that a ball should not move when impulsed by two
equal and opposite forces, or with one force which is equal,
but not superior to the force by which it js attracted to the
spot where it lies. If, then, the man at a tavern have a great-
er desire to stay and hear the end of a story, than he has to
go home, he sta^s and hears the story ; or if his desire to go
home equals, and 7io more^ his desire to hear the story through,
be stays and hears it through.

Some may thiuk that they can bring objections to the dec-

2f5

trine, thaf nothrng!>uf physical force ever causes a well mat
te perform any motion, ^iny contraction of his voluntary mus-
cles, which he does not desire or choos^e to do ; they may saj
that the criminal who loves life, walks of himself to the gal-
lows, yet his desire to be hung can not exceed his desire to
walk. But all such objections are only seeming ones : the
truth is, thecrimmal cannot have his choice, to cease to walk
towards the gallows or tobe hung, and he knows it. It is for
him to choose whether like a man he will walk to the gallows,
or whether, like an obstinate fellow, he will be carried to the
gallows-and his greater desire, i. e. his choice, is to walk. In*
deed, when physical force propels a man, it is not the man
that acts, but he is acted upon, and it would be philosophic
cally correct to say, that a well man never performs any act
or motion, which be does not choose or desire to perform-*
certain habitual movements, excepted ;^ and these never oc-
cur contrary to a wish of his, at the tirnem A man may be
placed in circumstances which he would not, and of course,
do things, voluntarily, which he would not, were it not for
suchcircuAistances 5 but whatever he does do he does from
choice, we may say, a necessary choice, if he do it in pref-
ferrence to suiferingthe unavoidable consequences of not do*
ing it. We have not a dozen laws of volition — they arc but
few ; — the most important one is, that a man do that (pose^i-
ble act) which he has an uncounlerbalan^ed desire to do. To
have such desire, is to choose, to please, to determine, to
will, to " have a mind,'' to do the thing clesired. We may ob- '
serve, however, that according to the co'nmon acceptation of
terms, 7o will is to have thoughts which immtdiaidy precede
the motive actions of the brain, whereas, to determine do
a thing tomorrow, is to have such thoughts occur as to con-
stitute a conviction that, if nothing umxpectcd turn up, it
will be your pleasure, or choice, to do the thing tomorrow*

It is a thing whirh, owing to circumstances yon think of, yoii
do not have h greater desire (o do nozo (htfn you have to do
fiomething else incouststent wiih the thing you determine to
do to morrow^

Should any one assert that a willing consists in something
tnore than in having certain ideas occur, one after another,
lot him observe as well as he can, what goes on in himself, let
him he careful that he is not hiin»elf deceived, and that he
do not attempt to deceive others, by empty sounds ; and
then let him tell us what it is. To be sure, wheu we come
to treat of the passions, we shall mantain that they consist in
something more than conscient actions of the sensorium, and
ftdmit that what is commonly called desire, may consist in
something more than conscientactions of the sensorium alone.
But although this will do very well for us, since we maintain
that thinking and sensing are not functions of an vnexttnded
thing ; we have a curiosity to know what the iminateriali^ts
Will tell us that willing consists m, if it be not essentially the
the same as thinking, — which, by the by, we suppose to be
the same as, to have thoughts, and to have thought's the ^ame
is, to have ideas. They wont tell us, will they, that their iin-
extended thing has part«, — a thinking part and a willing part ;
and that a man may think and will at the same time, and} ft
thinking and willing are not the same thing? Ifthoy do. we
trust they will be so good as to show us why an act of the will-
ing part can, and an act of the thinkin^^ part cannot, be imme-
diately succeeded by motive actions of the brani and nerves,
or if they please, by contractions of the ra'.iscles. Perhaps
they maj tell us that it is so, because such are the laws of na-
ture, and that they can tell us no more Rbout it. Very good,
but may it not just as easily and rather cheaper be a law of
nature, f^r certain motive actions of ihe brain to set in. on
the ociiurrcucs of cortaiu thoughts ? I<Iow we know.thal we

2517

have thoughts and of course, a thinking part, but we have
no evidence at all, that we have any willing part, besides the
thinking part ; we cannot discover in any of our willings that
we have any thing besides sensations and thoughts. And if
pimple truth had preceded complicated error, and we had
never heard any thing about the ^^wilP^ and the many other
powen ^nd fucidties ofthe Soul^ (all thingless, and the second
and third very ambiguous names,) we never should have
thought any thing, more or less, about volition than this :— -
on the occurrence of certain sensations and thoughts, or cer-
tain thoughts alone, certain motions ofthe body immediately
follow.

As we maintain that not more than one sensorial desire
ean exist in the same man, at one and the same instant, and
as it is clear, that, in this instant, the desire which does exist,
cannot be equalled or counterbalanced by an opposite de-
sire ', it may be asked why, the moment a man has any de*
sire to do a thing, the motive actions ofthe brain do not set in
and the man start to do this thing ?

In answer to this question, we offer the following conjec-
ture : We suppose that thoughts succeed thoughts, a little
more quickly than motive actions succeed thoughts. Hence,
ifconscient actions, constitutmg a desire, be immtdiaiely suc-
'eeeded by such as cnostitute an opposite desire, there is no
time for the motive actions to set in so as to give rise to mus-
cular contractions ; but if one desire be not immediately suc-
ceeded by an opposing thought, the motive actions do set in*
But we know from what we have experienced in ourselves,
that after a man has set out to do a thing, a ^' second thought''
sometimes stops him quicker than a cannon ball would do.

Different desires give rise to different motions ; this will be

admitted on all hands, for it is but paying, in the language of

the schools, that a man's will geverns his actions ; — it is to

88

298

state an ultimate fact, or law of nature, orvolition, and none
but those who disbelieve this, will talk about explaining It.
We donh hear any one talk about explaining laws of nature :
to explain her phenomena, is to explain every thing to be ex-
plained* The Deity himself cannot explain a law of nature
in the sense in which the word explain ought to be used by
men.

When two different desires which are exactly equal, imme-
diately succeed each other, the man may be said to be choice^
neuter^ but when there be but one desire, or when one desire
is more than equalled by another, he may be said to be
choice-absoiuie*

A man seldom remains cfamce-neuter for any length of
time ; for as the sensorium is continually thinking, some
thought is apt to occur, which is sufficient to turn the scale,
already on the balance : when this is done, the man is choice*
absolute, and the motive actions set in.

Ninety- nine times out of a hundred, the thought which
turn3 the scale, or the desire which gives rise to action, when
not counteracted by an opposing thought, is so trifling,* that
one can hardly say what induced him to do so and so, and
will verj' readily Say, '' I might have done otherwise if I had
bad a mind to.^' This we grant, objecting only to the Ian*
guage used. If tlie conscient actions of his sensorium had
been difierent, his actions would have been different ; but aa
it was, his actions were as much necessary consequents of
t^eir antecedents, as other efiects are necessary consequents
of their antecedents.

However much the short-sighted, and those who have an

* A thought may be said to be irifiinZy when it does not relate
to any thing; of importance — does not relate to any thing which, if
it do or do not occur, or do or do not exist, can make but very little
odds in the happiness or misery of him in whom the thought occurs.

299

interest in choking truth, raaj talk and scribble, the (act is as
alubbom and unalterable as the laws of nature, that whatever
a man has done, he could not otherwise than do, and his do-
ing so, is absolute proof that Ae, as he was, under all the cir-
cumstances of the case, could not do otherwise than he did*
If a man do not do a thing, it is proved that lie might not,
nay, could not do this thing at the time. — To say that a man
might have done so and so, if he had desired, chose, or had a
^ mind to,^' is to say nothing at all in favor of the doctrjne of
free agency, or against the doctrine of necessity. So may
water run up hiti, t/sufficient force be given it^ — so may gun-
powder not explode on the application of a spark, {/* it be
well drenched* with water ; nay, water must run up hill, and
gunpowder cannot explode, under these circumstances. In
all cases where the antecedents are different, the consequents
not only may, but must, be different ; for such are the laws
of nature.

The sequences of nature are linked together, if we may use
a figurative expression, by an indissoluble bond : the same
antecedents must, under the same circumstances, be followed
by the same consequents ; and every individual act or event,
whether it occur without or within the human skull, is the
consequent of an antecedent, or in older language, the effect
of a cause. It is one of the links in the chain of events that
constitute the phenomena of nature*

We hardly know what to say of a man who admits that
there are no events without causes ; that a cause is that
which must, from the natuie of things, be followed by an ef-
fect ; and then says that man is a free agent. He might as
well admit that two times and twice are synonymous terras, —
that twice four are equal to eight, and then say that two times
four are not equal to eight.

Some may say that this doctilne, if generally believed^

3W

would have a bad effect on society, and ihat (hey '^ would
not believe it if they knew it is true ?" But my dear reader^
you cannot help believing it. Tne laws of belief are the
same with you *as with me ; you may not own that you be-
lieve it ; you may even assert tliat you do not, and attempt
to argue against it ; but to assert, or to argue, is not to believe
or disbelieve* But how do you know that the state of soci-
ety would be worse than it now is — how do you know that
there would be leM human happiness, or more human mise*
ry in the world, than there now i^, if the doctrine of necessity
should be universally believed ? Have you any reason to sup-
pose that a general knowledge of truth will increasic the sum
of human misery as much as it will increase the sum of hu-
man happiness ? To be sure, owing to the present state of
mankind — owing to the errors which at present prevail — ;the
diffusion of truth and the consequent eradication of error
might give rise to some upturnings and overhaulings which
would disturb the peace and comfort of many an aot^s nest;
and we might expect a mighty fuss and stir among them. —
But we have no reason to suppose but that great good would
result to mankind, as one great family, from the diffusion of
truth ; and like good surgeons who produce a little tempora-
ry pain by probing and washing an old sore, to bring about "a
cure, every philanthropist ought to persevere in gradually
and tendtrly eradicating ignorance, error, and iill their evil
progeny. Knowingly, we ought to wound no one^s -feelings
uselessly. But when argument may be aided by giving an
absurdity a good selling ojf^ I think we are justifiable in do-
ing it.

Few appear to be sensible of the degree to which the hap-
piness of the human family might probably be increased, if a
few million of dollars, andtheTlabor of a few thousand men,
should be yearly expended in diffusing truth, and promoting

301

soand morality, — the machinery for choking truth ^nd difTuS"
ing error, being at tlie eame time motionless. - Men would
soon begin to believe alike ; for truth is one universal thing,
and all who are taught the whole truth and nothing but the
trulh, must believe ahke.

Wars between nations, wars between church and people,
wars between neighbors, and wars within one's own breast^
would soon cease to exist on account ofditFerence of opinion.
Merit or demerit would no longer consist in believing or dii-
beheving any thing, and the expression '*he that believelh
not, shall be damned,''^ would not be understood. But vir*
tue would coiisist in increasing the sum of human happiness^
and diipinishing the sum of human misery. Societies would
be formed for the difiusion of philosophical truth, and the
promotion of real virtue ; and he that detected errors or de-
veloped truths would be as good as his neighbor, whose
brains might be a little more phlegmatick. Different and
more effectual inducements would be held forth for men to do
good, and refr^iin from doing evil ; — if any one did society an
injnry he would be d^raded, zot'M compassion — he would not
be held up for professing to believe that one and ihree arc sy-
nonymous terms, and the like o^ that. But if he reformed^
as manifested, not by word, but by deed, he would be again
restorea to society and publicly applauded. And what is a
very important consideration > the incalculable amount of hu»
man misery which consists in the ''horrors of death !" and
the fears of "an eternal hell fire !" would be blown away, as
chaff before the wind. •

We should here close this chapter, were it not for the erro-
neous notions entertained by many, concerning the succes*-
sion of a maii^s thoughts. Thtire are many who — to use their
owQ expressions — believe that a man'a thoughts arc UiiU«r

30S

the conf roll of his " will ;" that he may, and in many iDstaa-
ces ought '*lo banish thoughts from bis mind.'' inc. &c.

Perhaps (here is no other subject under heaven, coocem-
ing which men so generally entertain erroneous views,
which views m»y so easily be shown to be erroneous, as they
do concerning this. Men find that they can think as tluy
thinks and not only so, huiif they please they can think of this,
that, and '(other subject ; hence they very readily and incoo-
B\der.i^e\y assent to the position, that a man may think as be
^Miasa mind to ;" and suppose that this is as much as to say,
a man's thoughts are under the controle of bis will. But this
doc(rine will not stand the test of inquiry. What is the
'will .^^Let us proceed upon the principles of immaterialism,
and a^k, candidly^ what js the will ? Is it any thing distinct
from the mind and the brain ? No. Is it a part of the brain ?
No. is it a part of the mind? No; for that which is unex-
tended has no parts. Is it ^faculty of the mind ? It is gener-
ally so considered. It appears then that a faculty of an on-
extended thing which is known to exist only by its faculties,
19 nopart of such thing! But what is a faculty of the mind ?

-— hem hem Well,-^t is nothing but zfaci.

It i« a fact that on (he occurrence of certain thoughts, certain
muscular contractions immedia(ely follow ; it is a fact ttiat
on the occurrence of certain thoughts, certain other thoughts
succeed ; when a man, for instance, thinks he will tbink about
heaven, he thinks more about heaven. It is because of these
facts (hat we say the mind has the faculty of causing the vol-
untary muscles to contract, and of causing its own self to
think about this, (hat, and the o(her thing; this faculty we
call (he will. Well, Mr^ Immaterialist^ since you spake as a
philosopher, and not as a poet, or an orator before a popular
assembly, we must tell you that we object to your language,
in the strongest terms. It is calculated to decerre, — it is old

303

language gotten into use, in days of ignorance ; and is catcof**
hted to kecrp alive the very notions that gave rise to it : the
word zotV/ is generally understood to mean Bomething existing
in the head besidfs, a /act / However if such langirage is in
such general use^ that it is better, for the present, to u^e it,
than to invent a substitute, we permit you to use it. But we
must ask you what causes the will [tlie fact !] to act ? We
ftU(ipo9e you will grant that every willing is an act of that
which wills; but there are no events without causes, no gap«
in the great chain of events, and we do not see but that joa
must suppose another will, to cause your old one to act, and
90 go on, supposing willsy one atop of another until you get
to heaven, the Great First Source of all events I !

Immdterialist. — I must confess this is rather difficult ground
to maintain— more so than I ever befoie thought, i have
heard so much about ^* the will,-^ about a man ^^ controlling
his thoughts,'^ and so much of censure when a man chances
to believe differently from his neighbor!*, that I never dreamt
but that there is a will in a man's head, that makes his thoughts
come and go at pleasure, free and absolute pleasure ; and
that a man in whom this something does not cause good
thoughts to occur, but suffers evil ones to occur, is to blame ;
and in some instances deserves to have his body tied up to a
itake, and made to smart most wretchedly, by having a fire
built about it ! — But I will take the ground of the late pro-
fessor Brown of Edinburg. He was an immaterialist, and an
acute reasoner too, though not quite so orthodox as I could
wish ; but as I am drawn into company where 1 must reason^
1 will take such ground as i can defend without giving up the
^apiioL* Brown maintains that all our sensations, thoughts,

And emotions — in a word, all our intellectual phenomena, are

* ^ ■ - - - — _ — . — I ■ ■ .11 .1 I -I . » .1

* The doctrine of soul, as toDielhiog dtstiost from the brain.

304

slates of an unextended and indivisible mind ; and that this
mind can exist in biy one state at a time. Of course, to nill,
does not suppose the existence of an} tiling but the mind inn
certain stale ; and to will a motion of one of our members, ii
to have the mind in such a certam state as it is, immediately
anterior to such muscular contractions as produce the mo*
tion ; — to will a thought, is but to have the mind in'a certain
itate immediately anterior to its existmg in such state as con-
stitutes the thought. Doeh this sense of the expression, io
will a thought^ suit you any better ?

Wt. — To be sure, this is not so absurd as to say, ^faci cau-
ses thoughts to exist, and prevents the existence of thoughts
which have no being ; but the question before ns does oot re-
late altogether to the fitness of expressions : the main ques-
tion is, whether there be any thing like free and independent
agency ia the succession of a man^s thoughts ; whether cveiy
thought which does occ»tr, must not as neccs^nrily occur, ai
pain must follow the application of a red hot iron to the skin
of a living and healthy man \ in short, whether it be, or be
not, the effect of a cause ? And to establish such free agencr,
we should as soon have thought of your referring to any other
authority as to that of Brown. Although Brown was
not a professed materialist nor necessari(;n, he has done
more, perhaps, than any other one man towards establishing
materialism and other important truths. Locke did consid-
erable, by banishing the world of innate ideas. Every iftan
who dispels any of the metaphysical darkness of the schools,
furthers the cause of materialism, whether he designs to or
not. But to the point. It must be granted, that according
to the principles of Brown, the mind changes states as fre-
quently as we have difTerent sensations, thoughts and emo-
tions ; and to change state supposes action ; and an action is
an event, whether the agent acting be discernible or not. —

305

Now, where Are you f A certain state of the mind (a state
which constitutes a desire, will, or zoilHng^) is imniediately
succeeded by a certain other state, constituting a thought ;
but what caused the mind to exist in the /r^l state ? — oo
ev<;nts without causes — no gaps in the everlastmg chain of
events — what will made the mind will, to think the thought ?

I^materialisL — Reason is a dangerous thing ; it ought not
to be exercised in the present case ; — we may reason away
all the exalted sentiments concerning human nature, and
make a man a mere organized machine, who is no more ahso'^
lutely culpable for any thing he does, in the eyes of his Maker^
than a cotton factory ; destroying, thus, the fundamental prin-
ciples of that wholesome morality which is productive of so
much h\im9in— 'happiness I know that when i am deter-
mined to think of any subject, I can and do think of it, and
when I choose to think of some other subject, I can [do]
think of it ; and this is all i mean by saying my thoughts are
under the control of my will. — Pll hear no more of your mis-
t:hievous philosophy ; 1 am sati«i\ed with my own opinions,
and 1 leave you to enjoy yours. — May God have mercy oa
your S9uls !

We. — That man is no numskull — he feels the force of ar-
guments ; but he is either too proud to admit that he is wiser
to-day than he was yesterday, or else he has some selfish mo*
tives in keeping alive ancient absurdities. He appears to be
alarmed at our reasoning away the fundamental principles of
that sound morality which is productive of so much human
happiness ; but he has too much good sense to suppose, for a
moment, but that more good than evil will result, in the end,
to mankind, as one great family, from the diffusion of truth*
He has not, however, and never wilt have, sense etu>ugh to
reason away the laws of nature, or what is equally difficult,

to refute the d9Ctriue of necei^sity,

39

306

He iays that when he is determined to, orchoose^ to think
of any subject, he can [does] think of such subject ; and that
this is all he means by saying his thoughts are under the con*
trot of his will. But if this be all he mean, we admit that his
thoughts are under the control of his will ; and it arguesjex-
actly as much in favor of man's free agency, and qonseqtient-
ly against the doctrine of necessity, as to say, that wherf fire
is applied to gunpowder, the gunpowder can [does] explode.
Let us say, for instance, that a man is determined to think of
heaven. This language suffers nothing in sense by render-
ing it thus : — the man thinks he will think of or about heaven.
But is there no cause for his thinking he will think thus ? If
be cast h^ck a little, he will find that these thoughts were
preceded by other thoughts, in some way or other, related to
them, and these, again, by others, and soon. He will see
that, considering his sensorial tendencies and the laws of
thought, every thought which does in him occur, must as ne«
cessarily occur, as an unconfined body must move when
struck by a heavier body swiftly moving. .

A man having got so far as to think he will think of heaven,
already thinks of heaven ; and as all thoughts relative to
heaven are relate4 to each other, we should expect, according
to the principles which we have said regulate the succession
of thoughts, that he would think more about heaven, than
merely to think he will think of heaven^

Wc see that it argues nothing to say a man may think as
be pleases, chooses, or ^^ has a mind to ;" and besides, the
expression is very nonsensical, as imich so as to say, a man
may think as he thinks ; for to please, choose, or have a mind
to, is but to think.

If there be a will in a man's head, which may control his
thoughts, in the sense in which these two words are generallj
understood, why, when a man is tired and worn down by the

307

toils and anxieties of the day, does he not stop his thoughts t
He would then be in a refreshing sleep. Whv, like a fool|
does he tumble and think half the night, anxiously de8l^in^(o
go to sleep ? Surely, it must be a vicry strange and powerless
controller to put into such an active organ as the brain, that
cannot stop its'actions.

Why, if a man may will his thoughts, does he not always
think of a man^s name when he wi — desires it ? If you do
think of a man's name on a desired occasion, it occurs to you
in this way : Some ideas, moife or less remotely related to the
idea of the man's name, are, in some way or other, caused fo
occur ; — the fact that you desire to think of his name, is proof
that some such ideas have occurred : the desire^ as it is cal-
led, consists of some such ideas ; and as ideas that are related
are apt io suggest each other, it is clear on what principle thtt
idea of the man's name occurs to you«

But why all this talk to prove that the actions of that which
thinks, ar^ not controlled by — the actions of that which thinks,
when it may be done by one short argument ? The very ex-
pression, zdi// a thought \mp\'ies a contradiction* Who caa
will a thmg until he have an idea of what to will ? But the
instant a man have an idea of what thought to will, that vcrf
instant is the thought already present — it has occurred accor-
ding to the principles which we have mentioned in several
parts of this work.

We must here be permitted to offer a few remarks, which|
however, relate more particularly to what we have said io tht
fore part of this chapter, than to what we have just beeo ad«
vancing*

We have said, that on the occurrence of certain conscient
actions of the sensorium, certain motive actions of the braia
and nerves immediately set in, and certain muscular contract
tions immediately follow. These cooscient actions we call

3oe

Retires, merelj io distingoish thfem from constient actions of
the senflorium that are not immediately succeeded by motive
actiom* In doing this, however, we use the word desire, in
a sense somewhat peculiar, for there may or may not be, that
consciousness which is generally called desire. These de-
sires we call thovghts^ also, for we call every conscientac-
iion of the senfs^orium alone, a thought. Should the reader
ask why we do not use the word toilt in the instances in which
we use the word desire, we answer, because we fear the con-
sequences of using this word ; we think it would be more apt
to suggest erroneous notions than the word desire.

Perhaps the reader may find more dificulty than we do in
admitting that it is a thought which, through the medium of
the motive actions of the nervous system, gives rise to volun-
tary contractions, if he do, it is because he does not have
the same notion of a thought that we do : he may own that a
zi7t7/ing- supposes consciousness, but does not feel right in call-
ing it a thought^ or thinking ; and for this very good reason,
be calls it a willing and ever has done so. But he must re-
-member that, in many cases, words which are quite different
in themselves mean the same thing in reality.

If a man would have just such notions as we dd, concern-
ing thoughts or ideas, and concerning volition ; he must put
aside all preconceited notions ; must look right into a man's
bead, and there see the sensorium near the centre of the brain,
with nerves running np to it from all parts of the body, and
see it acting one action after another, (calling each one
of these actions, a thought or idea) and see that when a
certain action of the sensorium occurs, a motive action com-
mences in a certain nervous tract and runs down into a mus-
cle, and a contraction of the muscle immediately follows.
Should any one a^k why one conscient action of the sensori-
mm ifi succeeded by a certain motive action of the yervous

1

809

gystem, in preference to another ; wq would ask him why
events out of the skull, occur in any kind of order, — why the
event B, instead of the event L, X, G, or any other event,
immediately succeeds the event A*

We n^ay, perhaps be told, that, notwithstanding all we have
said, the existence of the motive actions of the nervous sys'*
tern, is not a fact known, but an hypothesis — we grant it. We
are not immediately sensible of their existence — they are not
objects of sense ; but the diurnal revolution of the earth is
also an hypothesis. The supposed existence of the motive ac-
tions of the nervous system enables the ph} siologist to explain
the phenomena of volition, and many phenomena which he
Tvitnesses in disease and while experimenting upon animals,
even after their death ; as much as the supposed diurnal
revolution of the earth, enables the astronomer to explain
certain astronomical phenomena. We know of no well as-
certained fact thai tends to disprove either of these supposi*
tions.

•00-

CHAPTER XXII.

On the PassionSB

The passions consist of thoughts and natural sensations, not
immediately excited by agents exterior to the body. Some
of them consist of conscient actions that commence in the
nerves and extend to the sensorium, others consist of con**
sclent actions that commence in the sensorium and extend
down the nerves. The former we propose to denominate
the organic passions ; the latter, the sensorial passions.

We say the passions consist of thoughts and natural sen-
sations, nvt oecause we suppose tbe^e is any thing in nature

aio

Wh^ch is not, i&trictly speaking, truly natiiml ; but to exclude
from our definition of the passions, all (hose t^ensations which
arise from mor&tct states of the system, as the tootb-achey the
belly-ache, the pain of the gout, iic. &c.

The definition of passion, which we have gi^^n, in, we
think more philosophically correct than any other that ran
be given* The only objection to it, is, the word has not gen-
erally been used in so broad a sense ; for according to this
definition it may be contended that even (he pains of a mi^
iiral labor must he considered as constituting one of the oi]g:an-
ic passions, and it would require a good deal of metaphysical
subtlety to make it appear that they do not.

As we do not generally know./^recm/y, by what and how,
the organic passions are excited, we shall take the liberty
to say they are excited by, or arise from, states of the
organs* When the stomach contains a quantity of heal-
thy gastric fluid, and no food, it is in such state that hun"
ger arises ; — when the organs subservient to generation are
in a state of plenitude, or in an irritable state, the venereal
passion often arises without what may be called an excitiag
cause.

The seniBorial passions may, also, be said to be owing to
the 5<a/e< of our organs, and especially to the state of the
sensorium. 7^he actions which constitute the sensorial pas-
sions, we say, commence in the sensorium : if a man become
angry on account of what he sees, hears, or feels, we do not
say, the anger commenced in the eye, ear, or shin — the ac-
tions oCthe optic, auditory or cutaneous nerves constitute no
part of the anger. And as no anger would arise oi) the^Mi-
currence of these sensations, if the sensorium were destitute
of tendencies, it may trulj be said, that the sensorial passions
are jjore especially owing to the state of the sensorium, than
to the state of any other part of the system. But if it were

possible for two persons to possess sensorial tendencies pre*
cisely alike, in kind, number, strength, relation, in short, in
every possible respect \ we believe that one of these persons
might become angry on seeing, heariqgi or feeling, what the
other might .<iee, hear, or feel and not become angry. We
are led to this opinion by the fact, that the same man does
not, at ditiferent times, become angry on what would be ad-
mitted to be equally vexing ; and yet we cannot suppose this
difference of i«u8Ci*ptibtHty to an^rcr is owing to any change
that has taken place in hi^ sensorial tendencies. What would
vex the weary laborer at eve, he may with patience bear,
after a recruiting night^s sleep ; — what would be taken in
good humour by the man who has just taken his dram, may
the next hour make him mad. It appears, then, that so far
as the sensorial passions are depending on states of our or*
gaiis^ they are not owing altogether to the sensorial tenden-
cies, though these are essential to their existence ; it appears,
also, that when the nervous system is in such state as it is, af-
ter exhaustion from fatigue, muscular or sensorial, or from
high stimulation, it more readily takes on such actions as
constitute anger, (and the same might be said of some other
passions,) than at other times.

According to our views, a man is never in a passion^or
more properly, a passion is never in man, when there is no
conscient action of a nerve. Actions of the sensorium alone,
may be more or less vivid, we admit ; but when vivid, they
alone constitute nothing piore than what we would call vivid
thiMng. — A man^s thoughts may be distinct and numerous,
but they do not, of themselves, constitute a passion.

The organic passions are often called appetites ; the sen*
serial, especially the fainter ones, are often called emotions.
In most instances of the sensorial passions, the nervous ac-
tions are confined to the nerves about the epigastrimn^ or that

tipper and middle region of the abdpmen, trhicti includes the
" pit of the stomiich ;'^ but in some instances, as gamesters
well know, the nervous actions thrill down the back, even m*
to the extremities.

When $ny, thing is first told to us, which does not accord
with what we have been in Mie habit of believing, it at first
appears to us irrational ; but on more mature consider-
ation we often think of some fact which we admit as sucb,
but which we must admit to be equallj^ inexplicable with the
thing told us ; this thing then ceases to appear so strange and
irrational as before we thought of such fact. Men have been
so much in the habit of thinking that conscient actions com-
mence in the organic extremities of nerves, and extend to*
wards the brain, that when it is said they sometime* com-
mence in the brain and extend down the nerves, it, at first
thought, seems irrational ; but when they consider that thej
cannot explain the fact that an action commences in the or-
ganic extremities of nerves, and extends towards the brain,
and that they admit it because there are well known facts that
cannot be explained without admitting it — because that facti
seem to prove it ; then they more readily admit that an ac-
tion may commence in the brain and extend down a nerve.
And they will admit it, if facts be adduced which appear, /#
ikem^ to show that it is so.

Now the fact, that, on the occurrence of thoughts relative
to one's well being, sensations without impressions often fol-
low, (and follow too so instantly, th^t we must suppose them
the immediaU consequents of the sensorial actions,) appears
to prove that conscient actions may commence in Hie* brain
and run down the nervous prolongations connected with it.
-^It seems to be useless to say a.iy thing 4o show that the
sensations or emotions of which we are speaking, are truly
mbsegucni to the thoughts of the head.

J

313

•

Having shown what we mean by the passions, we now pr6*
ceed (o offer a few words concerning some of their fffccts^ on
the individual in whom they occur. Although some have
found it easier to deny the existence of a nervous fluid secre*
ted by the nervous glands, than to /yrore it, still its existence
is admitted hy most physiologists, and will we ihink, in time,
be admitted by all. Those who admit the reality of this se-
cretion, will not deny that some of the passions increase, and
others diminish it. By admitting this, and admitting its use
to be what we have supposed, in the chapter on the relation
between the nervous and muscular system^, they can find no
difficulty in showing in what way some of the passions give
rise to a flushed face, a sparkling eye, a strong arm, and an in-
creased secretion of bile ; while others give rise to a pale
■

face, a fluttering heart, a trembling knee, a diarrlioea, an in-
creased secretion of limpid urine, &c. &c.*

Although we suppose that, in cases of emotion, a nervous
action extends/rom the brain ; still we are of the opinion that,
in all those cases in which there is any paleness of the counte-
nance, the sensation in the epigastric region is in part owing
to the pressure of fluids in this quarter. We will not stay to
advance all the considerations in favor of this opinion, — onlj
the few following: When the fluids strike in from the surface,
as indicated by pale shrunken features, there must be an unu-
sual pressure about the heart and lungs — a pressure which in
some d'seases is very great, and undoubtedly gives rise to the
oppressive feeling which medical men term anxiety. Second,
A little ill* luck, or bad news is much more apt to produce
a disagreeable feeling about the epigastrium and breast when
the contractility of the muscular system (including the capil*

laric<« of the lungs) is so low that the blood gets through the

T ■ ■ ■ >

"* See pages I4ifj IdU^ JdJ.

40

314

^

(lal ; and, third, a deep id
ch is calculated to facititad

lungs with more difficulty th: iisi

spiradou, or a yawn, either o. «vhic

the passage of the blood thro lungs and relieve coiigetf-

tione of (he ve^ou^ blood, rei.^ves for the time that disagrees

ble, oppressive feeling which a man experiences when h«

thinks of things which be believes will (and consequently do,

at the time) diminish 1. ^ happiness.

Although we hold that a passion supposes an action of a
nerve, we are not prepared to say that sonoecouscient actions
of the sensorium. alone, are not more agreeable than others^»
seme thoughts more agi^^ible than others; but to ask, whi/t
would bt: like asking why oxygen is different from hydrogen*
No explanation can be ^ivcn, and no answer can be given, ex-
cept we say. such is the fart, such is the very nature of them ;
or something like this. Neither could any man tell another
what is an agreeable thought, if this other never experienced
one himself«

It has been a question why one thing pleases us, and another
displeases us, — wi. one thing excites such a .consciousnesi
in us that we call pleasant, or beautiful, and another thing,
that we call it unpiea^ant, homely or ugly. Now we suppose
that in some instances this question is a very proper one, as
something of the why and wherefore may be said of it ; but
in other instances it must be considered as a question relative
to an ultimate fact ; and when we are satisfied that any thing
is an ultimate fact, it would be as foolisli to ask roktf is it to?
as it would to ask, why is hydrogen such sort of-substance as
it is ? We believe that some agents immediately add invariO'
lly excite agreeable conscicnt actions in all nervous systems
organized alike. If so, it is an ultimate fact, or law, that
such agents excite such actions in such nervous systems ;
and to dibtinguifeih them from other agents they may be said to

315

^e ncLturaUy agreeable, good, pleasant, or beautiful, in relation
to those b^fings which possess *ch nervoDs systems*

But there are some things tvM give n^e to agreeable con-
sciousness in one man, bu *iother; and in the same man
at one period of hfe, though not' in a former period, lu this
case, the question, why ? is a proper one to be asked, for some
answer — some explanation can undoubtedly be given: it
must be owing to circumstances, and^lo point out these cir-
cuin;)taiices is to explain why. If a* certain piece of dress
give rise to such consciousness in me, that I call it handsome»
and in another man, such consciousness that he call it homely ;
we must suppose (hat either in the 'Ue case or the other, the
agreeable or disagreeable consciousness is not an action imme^
diatcly excited^ but an action suggested by means of the piece'
of dress ; for it is probable that all men are organized so neac
alike, that what immediately and o( self excites an agreeable
consciousness in one does. so in all, and may be said to bend"
iurally agreeable. Perhaps neither the agreeable conscious*
ness of me nor the disagreeable consciouuDess of the other
man. is an action excited by the piece <:>*dre8S| but in t>otla
cases an action suggested — perhaps men ^i general would saj
that the piece of dre^s is iudiiferent an to 'beauty or uglinesii*
It is owing to difiference of sensorial tendencies that one thing
gives riise to an agreeable consciousness in one man and not in
another — that one man calls one thing agreeable which auo«
tber man calls disagreeable.

Suppose a man to be, or to have been, in love, as the ex-
pression is, with a lady who wears, or did wear, a particular
piece of dress ; suppose that the roan have enjoyed ma.ij
agreeable emotions at the same time be saw this piece of
dress ; then the action immediately excited by seeing tbit
piece of dress, has occurred many times in connexion with
those that constitute the agreeable enotioosi audefcouivd

319

tfiere is produced in his nerTous system a tendency to this re»
c irrence of these actions in connexion : hence it follows,
that when a man sees a like looking piece of dress, he it
where or upon whom it ma}, it etciles an action of his ner-
vous system, which calls up or suggests the agreeable emo*
tions, and he is led to say this piece of dress looks rotlL altho'
J I is not the immediate cause of (hat which leads him to say so*

if this piece of dress be not naturally handsome, and an-
other man have frequently seen it at the same time he has
experienced unpleasant emotions, and seen it only at such
times, then it will call up unpleasant emotions in such m^tn,
and he will say it is a homely looking thing. The fact (hat
nauseating drugs taken with spirits create a disgust against
such spirits, is to be explained by referring to the suggesting
- principle.

As the notions of mnny concerning love^ are rather unsatis*
factory, and the notions of some concerning con^ciVncc, are
FHlher ridiculous, we shall dwell a little on these two pas-
sion*?, before closing this chapter. And first, of Love. — We
do not call the venereal appetite the passion of love ; — the
passion of love is one of the sensorial passions, but the pecu-
liai live of one sex for another, arises from the venereal ap-
petitr. A man loves what he regards as a cause of happiness
in him, (and (he gratification of any oi^anic passion is so
much happiness, though often called pleasure,) and the dif-
ferent sexes may be a cause of a peculiar happiness in each
other, on account of the venereal appetite ; hence the pecu-
liar love of a person of (he one sex for a person of the other
Bex. Bu( men may love each other, and men may love wo-
men, because they regard (hem as causes of other happiness
in them than that which consists in (he gratification of an or-
ganic passion. Such love, to distinguish it from the sexual
love, may be called social love \ and it is the sexual and so-

317

€ml love combined, that constitute that compound atFcction
which binds hearts with a mure lasting cement than the sexual
love alone ; and whieti. when disappointed, renders the per-
son more lastingly miserable. Beauty of person, and even of
dress, favors the passion of love ; for whatever is naturaliy
beautiful, immediatelij and invariably excites agreeable con-
sciousness in all persons — this consciousness is so much
happiness, and we love what is to us a cause of happiness.

The appetite which causes us lo love a thmj^, is not the
love of such thing, — the first is an organic, the last a sensorial
passion.

Of Conscitnce, It is an ultimate fact, or law of the ner-
vous system, that "on the occurrence of certain conscient ac-
tions ofthesensorium, certain conscient actions of the nerves,
immediately follow. These actions of the nerves, together
with the actions of the sensorium, constitute, as we have said,
the sensorial passions, which are often calltd, not improptT-
ly, eaiotions. The actions of the nerves alone may be called
internal, retrogade sensations, — internal, to distinguish them
from sensations excited by agents exterior to the body ; retro^
gradej to distinguish them from the sensations which consti-
tute (in part) the organic passions, which sensations consist of
conscient actions that run towards, instead of from, the hraiii.

What thoughts or conscient actions of the sensorium are
thus succeeded by internal^ retrograde sensations, we can say
no more particularly, than that they are thoughts which re-
late to the happiness or misery of ourselves or other •-enfient
beings. All thoughts about future misery, be this miser> i x-
pecled at what peiiod it may, are of this nature. A man who
meets with a little ill luck, or hears a little news which caus-
es him to think of, and expect, a diminution of his happiness,
or an increase of h»s misery, experiences, esperially if he f>e
in a weak and exhdusled btule.^ and above ail, if t^xhausied by

318

debauch, a disagreeable sensation in the breast and epigastric
region. If he have been led to do any thing or even think
about doing any thing which calls up ideas of nnisery — any
thing which he has been taught to believe he shall be punish-
ed for in a future state — the same kind of sensation arises.
That this sensation is the same in kind as that which arises
when a man thinks of the bad conditions he expects to be in,
to-morrow, next week or next year, no one will doubt, after
paying so much attention to it as the present writer has done ;
but if it should be granted that it is not, it would not follow
that conscience is not as much a passion as joy.

Tlye notions entertained, or at least expressed, concerning
conscience, are whimsical enough : it has bc^en talked about,
as though it were a ^' divine voice^' (if any one can tell what
this is) either slipped into us about the time we were begotten,
or else coming directly to us from heaven just before, at the
time, or soon after we do any thing which the book of nature,
or a paper book has taught us to believe we ought not to do.
And the "dictates of conscience'' [conscience itself] have
been talked af as though they were '^ the strivings of the Holy
Spirit ;'' but by the by it is a spirit which, in nine cases out of
ten, a glass of grog will banish from one's stomach, until the
stimulating effects of the grog are over, but which will then
return, more troublesome than before, if the system be not,
in the mean time, recruited by rest and nourishing food.

We do not maintain that the passion conscience, is no sign
that the person in whom it occurs is not aperjon of principle^ as
the expression is, but the reverse, — it is the most sure sign he
can have that he is a man of principle — it is certain evidence.
But it is not the least shadow of evidence that his principles
are true. It is evidence only that he believes them to be true,

which belief is what constitutes him a man of principle** —

i ^

*■ We have here used ihe word principle iu a louse and familiar

319

Only make a child believe it wicked to whistle, that it displeas-
es God, and that he will suffer eternal, never-ending torments
in ail unquenchable hell fire, for whistling ; such child, should
he chance to whistle, would experience the same compunc-
tious feelings that manj good bojs how do, when in a moment
of excitement they incautiously swear, or take the Lord^s name
in vatn. Yet for all this, it might b6 as innocent to whistle, id
the views of the Almighly, as every body now supposes it to be.

The law of conscience is, that it arise whenever a man con-
templates an act of his which he believes is wrong* We
think, however that it is more intense and partakes of the '
nature offearin case the man believe be shall suffer for do-
ing such act. Be this as it may, the existence of conscience
in any man, on a certain occasion, depends on what the man
has been made to believe, be it truth or falsehood. And as a
m^n^s belief, opinions, views, sentiments^ or whatever you
please to call them, may undergo changes, we see why it is
that a man may do an act at one period of his hfe, without
such compunctious feelings as arose at a former period, on
doing the same act. We see, too, why men of difierent na-
tions, and different men of the same nation, do not feel re-
morse alike, on doing the same deeds, though they may be
men of a similar weak and nervous constitution.

Nevertheless, it .is freely admitted, that what seems wrong
to one, would, if known, very generally be pronounced wrong
by all men. This however is very easily accounted for. It

sense — in that sense in which it is used when it is said that a man
who believes such religious doctrines as are generally believed,
and believes in the fitness and utility of such rules of conduct as
are generally believed right and useful, is a man ot principle. But
strictly speaking, every mun is a roan of principle, who holds to
any rule of conduct or believes any thing concerning theological
subjects : to be without principle, is to be opinion-neuter as to all
nioral and religious creeds.

is because nature h^s taught men what they ought to do to-
wards eacii oihfT ; and nature is a universal school-inistreiis,
teachini;all men the same Ic^^son.

A man need not resort to any paper book, to learn that he
does not want his person or property injured, nor to leara
that his fellow beingft are much like himself j neither does
he st;ind in need of any phslo^sophical speculations to con-
vince 'him that his fellow hein-^s do not want to be injured in
person or properly. Nature teaches him (his, and this is as
much (we helicve (he sa^ne,) as to teach him that it is wrong
to injiin* his fellow being«. If he do injure them, a sense of
disapprobation arises ; and if he believe he shall sulTer for so
doing, Ihisseiise of di^approhation partakes somewhat of the
nature of fear, and is called co .science, or the '' dictates of
conscienre,^^ if the man believe his suirering will be in a fu-
ture world.

it is an object of moral philosophy to point out the conse*
quences of s«ich and such coijr>es of conduct, which conse-
q'lences are so remote as not to be readily seen by every

■

one. — As soon as auy mnn is convinced that any deed, or
any course of conduct, is productive of more human miserj
than happinc-*, he is convinced that it is wrong. And we
believe that to l)e convi )ce«l of the one, imprecisely the s»ame
thing as to he cojivin«ed of the other. VVhen we say a thing
is wrong, what areoiir ideas of I his wrong, except such as con*
Stitute a convictiiin that the lhii»j^, be it a disposition, desian,
deed, or course of conduct, is immediately or remotely pro-
ductive of more hiinin misery than happiness ?

As to regardii^ cousrience, or what is the same thine, the
** dictates of co»Hrience," as any principle, or the operation
of any f»rinci(»te, within us, excejit the uiere/'c/ that on the
O'cnrrence of reitain sensoriil aclio.is, certain internal, re-
trogjdc senialions arise ; we should assoou thuik of regard*

9Cl

ing the pain which arises when a barefooted boy strikes hit
toe against a stone, as the ^* voice of a Divinity within him,''
warning him not to strike his naked toes against a «tone
again^!-^But the world is ftiit ofstrange notions, and the more
absurd and mysterious they are, the more obstinately do the
ignorant adhere to them. — Conscience is one of the passioiM
which, Kke all other passions, influences our conduct. If
arises when we think of deeds which we have done, just as
borrow arises wbeo w«s think of losses wc have sustained*

-00-

CHAPTER XXIII.

On Rtligion*

'The word religion, is used in quite different senses. Ac-
cording to one very common use of the word, religion is an
affection of the human system. In this sense of the word, it
belongs to the physiologist, or, if you please, metaphysician,
to examine into the nature and causes of religion ; and it is
the more necessary that he do so, because moHt persons, even
in this enlightened age, appear to be much in the dark con-
cerning \h\r^ matter. Indeed, the notions that have been ex-
pressed concerning it, are such as to excite emotions in every
well informed man. Il has been SAtd that religion is can«>ed
by, or consists in, (we scarcely know which to say,) being
born again of water and the Spirit, — an exprestiion so very
ambiguous, that if any one totally unacquainted with all reli-
gious notions, should ask if thi8 6^mg born again of water and
the Spirit^ consists in being brought to life with rum and
Water, we should not think it strange. Again, it has been

saidy that no man has religion until he have experienced a

41

ohange of heart ; by which it is not meant, however, that be
must have his tliorax opened and his natural or congenital
heart taken out, and a new one put in its place. At other
timesi religion was spoken of as though it were cauf^ed ly, or
consisted in, certain operations of the Holj Ghost or the iSjpt-
^t of the Lord.

But to speak truly and intelligibly, the religion of wh<ch
we are treating — often called the religion of the heart — is no-
thing more nor less than. a sensorial passion ; that is, con-
scient actions of nerves preceded by conscient actions of the
scnsorium as a rause. A share of the conscient actions of the
sensoiium which give rise to these actions of the nerves, are
such as constitute thoughts concerning religious doctrines,
occurring in such order — so free from intermixture of oppo-
sing or contradictory thoughts — as to constitute a belief that
such religious doctrines are true. Hence we see that a be-
lief in religious doctrines is essential to, and indeed consti-
tutes a part of, the religion of which we are speakmg.

Having shown what inward religion is, we proceed to treat
of itsxauses and effects.

Mankind are now too much enlightened to mistake mysti-
fication for explanation, or attribute effects to supernatural
causes, when natural causes, amply 9uffic*ent to account for
them, may be pointed out. Something like a thousand years
ago, of course during the dark age, it is said — however in-
credible it may appear to men of this enlightened age — that
men attributed their inward religion to special operations of
the Koly Ghosi upon the heart! and some, if history be true,
even virtually asserted that thip Being — ^often spoken bf as
though he were nothing le:«s than tlie Creator of the universe
—entered the human 8\stem and dwelt for a time at least, all
abont in or between the thoracic and abdominal viscera, —
and that religious emotions were caused by this agent. If an

328

■

^ awakening^^ or " revival" took place, these men of the dark
age used to attribute it to ^' outpourings of the S|>irit," and
tell of the Lord paying them a special visit. But these no-
tions now remain in history as monuments of ancient igno-
rance, and men are left free, so far as it respects legal pun-
ishments, to search out the .true causes of all known events*
Consequently they have found tliat inward religion is effectu-
ated in the following manner.

Children are presented with books which teach them that
thefirsttnan and woman ate an apple or some such thing, in
conseq[t]ence of which the whole human race are totally de-
praved, and deserve not only to earn their bread by the sweat
of their brow, to endure much misery in this life, and the
pains of dying, but to be eternally wretched after they are
dead ! That the author of nature; in his infinite goodness and
mercy, caused a child to be brought forih by a wumao who
had not known her husband — a child who, by the by, was as
old as his Father. That this chitd having become a man,
was by men unjustly executed *, but came to life again, three
days after, and ascended up into heaven, (for heaven is abov^
us, in the day time.) That on account of these things man-
kind will not be eternally miserable after they die, merely be-
cause of the apple affair ; but still, on account of thU^ their
natures are so very corrupt, that is, they have such strong
passions or propensities for doing those things which they
ought not to do, and are so little disposed to do the things
which they ought to do, that they canc^pt or do not (it
makes no odds which you say) refrain from doing many evil
deeds, for doing even one of which they deserve to be eter-
nally damned, and indeed will be ; unless, before they die
they are sorry for doing such deeds ; and furthermore, pro-
fess to belive such things as we are now stating, and many oth-
ers equally raiional^ to be true. But if they are thus iorryi

8f4

mi thns profess instead of being eternally wretched, they
will be elernally and most exquisitely happy.

After more pains are taken to make children, and young
perso.js (who have not yet sufficient knowledge to reason cor-
reclly) believe the ihings, than would he necessary to cause
them to belif ve the most romantic story that ever found it«
way into books ; many of them do .believe them in rather a
low degrre. And they think that after accomplishing cer-
tain worldly objects, and indulging a little more in those
things for which they have a wicked (but natural) propensity,
they must attend to the repenting part.

While thty are in this state striving perhaps to render their
f How beings more happy, of whatever sect or denomination
they may be, they meet with one or more persons who under-
take to convert their mere cold behef in religious doctrine—
which is at best liille belter than mere morahly— into realef-
eclive religion, a relij^ion that will move the tongue. For thia
purpose a consciousness a little lower down than the ^ain,
must be excited,—- llitre must be an emotion. In effecting this,
some are more skilled than others. The means by which
they operate, are various, depending somewhat on circum-
stances. For the most part, they are well calculated to ef-
fect the .object in view, though not uniformly successful. If
they think their subjects are not properly prepared for a real
getter-up of revivals, that is, their belief in the religious doc-
trines is not of a sufficiently high degree, their first object is,
though a little oiU of their favorite line of business — to in-
crease such belief. This being done, they aim to impress
their subjects with the imminent danger they arc in of "losing
their souls,^^ and being eternally wretched in hell fire (a ter-
rible place for an unextended thing) where there will be
weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth — among the devils^
probabl}fjfor <As ami lias no iuih. They tell them that they

khownot bnt that thej will be called (o (he bar of God ihk
xery nighl — and perhaps give a hislciry of some poor fellow
repeiituig «?ith all speed, but could oot possibly get throu^b
before the an^rel of death (whaC^s* that '/) flew away with the
only thing he had to repent with — adding, ihat if this repent*
ing apparatus sthould continue its operations on \X» way thither^
or after it arrived at its journe) '1$ end, it will avail nothing : it
mn^t all be done while it is in the brain, or it is of no use.—"
They tell them that noro is the time, the accepted time, and
if they do not repent nozo, and turn to God, he may turn a
deaf ear to all their cries, as soon as tomorrow ; for he ha$
long been knocking at the ^^ door of their hearts /'' and the/
would not open unto him.

By such sort of sentiments as the^e, delivered in a solemn
and impressive manner, aided hy the ringing of bells, by sing*
ing, by instrumental music, and such ottier means as are calcur
lated to arouse the nervous system, every one who firmly be*
lieves th^t the impenitent wicked will be forever wretched ia
a future state, and believes himself to be one of such wicked,
has his feelings wrought upon* He is sorry and fearful for
the corruption of his nature, and the many wicked deeds he
has done ; andUie more of these, the more sorry is he. h is
now that coiiscient actions of his nerves arise ;— it is now that
he repents ; — it is now that he is in the sorrow ing.stage df re«
ligion. After remaining in this stage for a longer or shorter
time — in acute cases, not over a few days — he is told, or per*
haps it occurs to him, that he is already repenting, or has re*
pented ; and of course, there is not only a prospect of his
escaping the eternal wrath of an angry God^ but of his enjoy-
ing eteruai felicity — yes, eternal felicity. Oh ! what a ple^t8•
iiig thought ; — he now begins to feel better ; — his thoughts
are different ; and of course, the disagreeable feelings ot iits
breast are gone* indeed, if be be Y^r) aa&CLyUbisi oi viVid

326

emotions, (as the young, feeble, and effeminate are the most
likely to be,) and be surrounded by new friends, to whose
doctrines he. has become a convert, and who salute him with
all the fervent affection' of brothers and fellow laborers in
one glorioui? cause, he is not a mere thinking man, but a joy-
ful man* His breast is alive with a new passion ; — he is not
now the repenting child of sorrow, — the stage of oppression
has passed off, — he is one of the most h^ppy beings on earth ;
be tastes of paradise below. He has made his peace with
God, and professes religion, (another thing to be glad of,)
he thinks that no one who has not experienced the like,
can know his joys. He thinks that nothing false or earthly
could give him such bliss ; and would that all would repent
of their sins, and be a brother of his, on the Lord's side. He
is enthusiastic ; and ifyou express any doubts as to the truth
of the doctrines which he so firmly believes, and is so happy
ill believing, since he has been led to believe that he shall be
infinitely happy, he pities you ; — or ifyou go so far as to ad-
vance arguments which bear hard against such doctrines,
may be offended at you, and even secretly endeavor to in-
jure you in your lawful occupations. He is not now equally
kind and charitable to persons of all denominations ; for
he has taken sides in a cause, in promoting which he
believes (for so he has been taught,) he is doing God^s
service ; and in which he may have a wordly interest, and,
being still human, ^ pride in promoting. Consequently those
who are'of bis sect are to be encouraged, and those who are
not, put down.

Now it is this change in one's thoughts and feelings con-
cerning religious matters, that constitutes what is sometimes
called a '' new birth," sometimes '' gelling religion^'^^ and at
ethers, " a change of heart."

It 16 .well known to every one at all acquainted with the

327

animal economy, that the expression, change of hearty as used
by religionists, is as figurative, though not quite so amoigu-
oiis, as the expression, born again of water and the Spirit.-^
The heart is a thick muscular organ, situated in the ch^st,
and containing four apartments. Its function is to assist in
circulating the blood, by which it is excited to act. It pos-
sesses a much lower degree of sensibility than the skin, and
is never the seat of any feeling except it be in a disease^
slate. Its action is often accelerated during the passions,
probably in the manner we have explained in the course of
this work ; but it has no more to do with a man^s thoughts
and feelings than his lungs ; and we have no more reason to
suppose it is ever the seat or habitation of any good or evil
spirit, than we have to believe there arc such beings in exist*
ence as witches. It is less liable to 'change than almost any
other important organ, and fiverv change of it is a disease, re-
quiring medicine. But the heart is io the neighborhood of
those nerves which take on conscient actions during the sen-
sorial passions, and as it is often influenced by these passions,
it is not strange that the ancients regarded it as the seat of
some of them, as well as of good and evil spirits, — Ti mistake
which gave rise to language that is still in use with those who
prefer ambiguous to plain matter-of-fact language.

There are some who seem to regard their religious joy
not only as the effect of some supernatural agency, but even
as evidence of the divine oiigin of the religious doctrines
which they believe ; but these we think are mistaken notions.
Indeed, if every person who (irmly believes the doctrines of
the christian religion, who has repented of his sins, and made
a profession, should not be as happy as any person ever was,
it would be something so unnatural that no philosopher could
account for it. What ! a man believe that he is a sure can-
didate for eternal and consummate happiue;$s, and not be

.Tl?^

sn

tranfporteJ almost to madness* All the happiness of the old-
est fimn that ever lived is as nothing cosni^ared with such a
«um of happiness as this ; yet how often do we see men al-
most frantic with joy on meeting with a httle good luck, which
they know can be a cause of happinesss to them, but a few
short and uncertain years ? Surely, if there be any mystery
concerning the religious joy of penitent and professed believ.
crs of the doctrines of the christian religion, it is because
they are not much more happy than they are. We should
think they would sink into perfect apathy as to the things of
this world, and anxiously await the hour of death. We can-
pot account for their love of life, and their sorrow* under
lordly misfortunes, but by supposing that th^ir belief in fu-
ture bliss is not of the highest degree.

As to religious joy being any evidence of the truth or divine
origin of chriatiaiuly, it r^riainly i* not. If a poor man should
purchase a ticket, and afterwards be informed that it hat
drawn 20,000 dollars, in such a manner that he would firmly
believe it, his joy would be just as much evidence that he has
drawn this sum. as religious joy is, that the religious doctrines
are true, or of divine oni^^in. In neither case is the joy any
evidence of any thing, more or le?«, than that the man believes
—no evidence at all that what he believes is true. If the
poor map firmly believe th.U he has drawn 20,000 dol fa rs, hit
joy is the same whether in reality he have or have not.

Neither is the fact that learned men of fvell organized
brains, believe in thc^ christian religion, the least shadow of
evidence of it* truth or divine origin.— We are nonovcl read-
cr<», but we presume there is no tiction extant but what would
b<' believed by as many enlightened men as believf in the
' christian relijiion, had it been published in the same age of
the world, and as ma.iy millions of treasure, and the labor of
as many milhona of educated incii been expetided ia iU Cdabe,

* 329

as have been expended in the cause of christianitj, since its
first introduction into the world.

One grand reason why so many helieve in the christian re-
ligion, is this ; They are not onl} taught to beliei'e it, before .
they are old enough to reason, hut they are at this tendtr age
deeply impressed with (he idea that they ought to believe it,
and that they will be eternally wretched after they die if they
do not believe it : consequently they think that they are not
only just itiable, but even praiseworthy, in reading every thing'
that has been written in favor of it, and rejecting, without
reading, every thing that has been written against it. And
this delusion is not a little encouraged in maturer years by
those influential persons who have a pecuniary interest in the
cause of religion. O.ily let all persons come to the mge of
rtaaon before they arc made acquainted with any religious
notions more than what they draw from the book of nature ;
afterwards present them with the bible, together with all that
has been or can be written, both for and against it ; and let
as many persons, under equally favorable circumstances, be
employed to convince them that Christianity is not divine,
and the general scheme of it not true, as there are to con-
vince them to the contrary ; thtn might the preponderance
of either party be considered as some small evidence in fa-
vor of its principles.

But when we consider how much time and treasure, as
w€ll as bldbd, have been expended in the cause of Christiani-
ty ; the smallness ol the proportion of mankind which truly
believe in it, seems to argue much against its truth and divin-
ity. Only about one fifth of the human family are called
christians, and as much as one half of this one iifih are not
believers in Christianity ; and not more than one of a thou-
sand that do believe in it, ever as fully examined what has

been written against it, as what has been written in defence

42

330

©fit; and nine tenths of the one ten fhon^nnclth part of the
human family who have thus examined, had some selfish mo-
tives in maintaining it, Frnally, we think it would be diffi-
cult to produce a single instance of a person believing in the
christian religion, who examined into its negative 8«de. before
he were deeply impressed with the idea that it is true and sa-
cred. — Where are our detstical schools and colleges, openly
and professedly such ? where Oiir deistical presses ? where
our deiJ^tical teachers. r11 over the country, calling the people
to^M'ther every seventh day, or oflener, to impress ibcm with
their doctrines ? Where the numberless dei.-^tical books,
tracts, and weekly papers, thirkl) scattered abroad, s© as to
be in every man's house ? They are not to be found, Oiilj
let deism and christianit} be on an equal footing as to all these
thiiigs, and then see which is most ear^ily maintained nmon^
the multitude- — Let a century pass away, and again sec if
the number of enlightened thristiaus so exceeds the number

■

of enlightened deists, th«t any one Ttould think of regarding it
as any evidence of the divine origin of Christianity,

ITwe represent by one, the means that have bren opera-
ting in the cause of deism in the United States since the land-
ing of our fore-fathers at Pl> mouth; the means that have
operated in the cause of christianit) in these states since that
time, may be represented by 1 00,0(0. Yet it is probable that
the number of intelligent and contirmed deii^ts at present in

■

the United States, is, to the number of enlightened and con-
firmed christians, al least, as one to ten. Accordingly, a cer-
tain amount of effort in the cause of deism has given rise to
10,000 true and enlightened deists ; whereas an equal amount
of effort, in the cau^e of Christianity, has given rise to only
one such christian.*

* In speaking of pulitr^jtenpij christians as in llie text, we do not
mean to be uudeijiluou tlidt liiey are euli^hientU in rej»pect to ihe

331

tSurely, we nf?ed not suppose that chnnfianityhas the1efi9t
divinity about it, or that tho?e who believe in it are weak-
headed, to account for its success. — TiiereU no doctrine na-
der heaven, (ahe or true, but what would be as widely diffus-
ed and as long maintained, if it had been introduced eighteea
hundred years ago, and as mu^h efTort been nrtade in its be-
half, as has been made in the cause of Christianity for eighteea
hundred years past.

We have now treated of the nature and causes of the" re«
ligion of the heart," — more properly, the religion of the ner-
vous syslem. In doing this, we have laid down what we con*
«ider the general scheme of the christian religion, in plain
English, t But no friend of truth will cer.sure us for this ; for
whatever is not true ought not to be believed, and whatever
is true, so far from suffering by being stated in plain, maiter-
of-fact language, will even stand the test of argument. — Ail
doctrines iu which the unlearned as well as learned, have a
deep interei»t, ought, as oi'ichas pos:^ible, to be stripped of all
figurative and ambiguous expressions, and exhtbiled m ihcMr
true colonrs* Error is an e\il %vhi(:h is sometimes suffered
to exist among (he multitude, merely because it is dressed up
in such a style that they cannot see it. Furthermore, all im*
portant doctrines ought to be most scrupulously tested by
reason, for this is the only way in whtclrwe can determine
what is true and what is false, excepting those cases id which

religion which they profess ; tor most of them have not examined
into its negative »ide; and no man can be said to be enliebfeut^d
concerning any qiiestitin until he be Hcquainted with what can be
•aid b ith for and against it.

t Ttiere is so nitirh Hijspute and contention in the world abont,
nh(U is chrUlianity 7 that we do not presume t«> decide what it is ;
but we think we have sketched the outline of what the mokt pr«vii*
l«u( »eci of religioai»it iu christeodum Cdii vluiaiittuity*

332

tre can have the evidence of our senses. — If any body know
of anj other way, we wi>h he would point it out.

I do not pre.<«uine to »ay for a certainty, but that the origi'^
Dal oi^anization of my brain is such, and such the impres*
sions that hhve been made upon m> senses, that my sentiments
concerning all religions, pretending to divine origin, are quite
erroneous. I tio not ns^e the expression I know ^ to express
any of my convictions that aie the result of a long and com-^
plicated judging process. In all these cases I can, with pro*
priety, only say 7 believe ; for every conviction which is the
result of a judging process, depends on the facts which we
think over; and mo man can ever he certain that he knows —
or ill a judging process concerning any question, thinks over — ^
all the facts that relate to the question. Because a man sceft
as far as he can see, it would be presupiption in him to saj
that no one sees any farther, or that there is nothing to be
eeen bt^yond what he sees.

1 will further remark, that I consider every man's beJief-^
be what it may — as the necessary result of certain causes ;
and I should about as soon think of condemning a man for
being bom with only one arm, as for believing whatever he
doe6 behevo, or fornot beheving as 1 believe.

-00-

CHAPTER XXIV.

On PRtnomena referrtd to Instinct*

The organic passions oAen lead animals, especially young
oncfi, to perform many actions before they have learnt, by ex*
perience or otherwise, win tlier what they do will be to their
good, m the eud, or not. Bui it su happens that the Great

333

Designer ha? caused them to be 8o organized that they arc
seldom pushed on by these passions to do an> thing which is
not subservient to their own individual good, or to the propa-
gation axvd well being of their species. It is on this account
that these instinctive actions, as they are called, have greatly
puzzled philosophers, and ird them to cunjure np muny
strange notions concerning them.

One [Des Ca^te^] is led to maintain that brutes possess no
peculiar orph)siolog!cal properties, but are mere mechanical
(liot physiologically organized) machines ; and of course are
never the subject* of btiisalron or a thought, however dnuch
tht:) may appear to eUjO) plea>ure and endure pain. Ac-
cording to Uiis doctrine, ail instinctive actions must be mere-
ly mechaiMcal, and the }Oung mamnifilian is drawn to the
breast of its mother, I bupp(>>e, by Ihe scent of the udder, a
scent however that is not smelt by the young animal. An-
other [Darwin] maintains that it thmks over a train of
thoughts relative to the subject, and comes to the conclusion
that it wjll be well for him to lay hold of its mother's teats
and sock a little. A third [Cudworth] holds that '^ an active
and plastic nature !'^ exists throughout the world independent
of '' pure mind^' or pure matter, and that matter is solely ren-
dered visible and endowed with manifest properties by a un-
ion with this plastic nature. Such one conceive«> 'Mhat all
ikstinctive powers might oe resolved into the operation of tliis
plastic nature."*

What a power is, that it may be " resolved into an opera-
tion^'^'* we leave for close thinkehi to deternf)ine ; but if this
" plastic nature^' be that which renders pure matter visible,
and be also the cause of instinctive actions, we would ask,
(since Good has suggested the idea.) why ail visible mat'.cr,

*fc»ee ** Good's Euuli ol iNalure," vul. 1, p. ^^7, Jiustou «uiu i Jii6.

'* ^

334

unorganized as well as organized, does not, now and then at
least, exhibit instinctive phehomcna.

A fourth [Cuvier] asserts that ^' the understanding maf
have ideas without the aid of the senses ; two thirds of tl>e
brute creation are moved by ideas which they do not owe to
their sensations, but which flow immediately from their brain*
litsfinct constitutes this order of phenomena : it is compoH'd
of ideas truly innate, in which the senses iiave never had the
•mallest share/'

What the tindtrstanding is, and where it comes from —
what innate ideas it posi^esse:) — how it holds them, or where
they are packed away — what ideas are, (hat they may^ow
immediately ftom the brain — what sort of instinct it is that is
composed of innate ideas, at the same time it constituies an or-
der of phenomena — how the ideaii of the understanding flow-
ing immediately from ihe brain^ can move two thirds of ibe
brute creation, and not the other third, are questions which
the materialist feels himself under no obligations to answers-
he considers the whole talk perfect nonsense*

The learned Dr. Good appears not to have been satisfied
with either of the above doctrims concerning instinctive ac-
tions; and by regarding many phenomena af> insiinctivCf
which the above mentioned authors did not legard as such,
he finds no difficulty in making it appear that they cannot all
be accounted for upon the principles of either. Accordingly
he begs the candid attention of the audience to which be is
delivering a lecture, while be presents to them a new view of
the subject*

That he may not build upon sand, but have his speculations
-based upon a rock, sure and steadfast, he first proceeds to
prove the existence of a " principle oflife,^^ This he does by
showing that there are essential differences between oi^ani-
zed and unorganized beings ; which difiereucet mast, of

BS5

sonrsf^ he owing to^the superaddition of a principle of life to
the former. He says he does not know exactly what thi§
principle of life is, — that some have thought it caloric, some
oxygen, and some electricity ; but be its nature what it mar
it is a '* conlrollnig and identifj/ing power'' to be traced " in
every organizf-d sutem, whether animal or vejjetahle, and in
every pari of such system, whether solid or fluid." He now
te!U u? (•' Book of Nature," vol. 1, p. 38J,) that ^ rhe agency
by which it [pnncipJe of life] operate? is that which we de-
nominate or should denomuiate instinct'* — '* or to speak
somewhat more precisely, instinct is the operation of the liv-
ing principle, whenever manifestly directing its operations to
the health, preservation, or reproduction of a living frame, or
any part of such frame." At page 388, the same book, he
says, " inslinei may be dttiiied the operatioti of the principle
oforganized life by (he exercise of certain natural powers di« ^
rerted to the present or future good of the individual."

Now it appears to us (hat the Doctor has thrown no light
at ail upon those phenomena.of organized beings called in-
stinctive. Had he shown us satisfactorily what instinct is,
this would not be to explain the phenomena called instinc-
tive. — To make it appear that some unknown thing exists,
and to give it a name, is not to explain those phenomena that
Are referred to this unknown thing; but the Doctor has not
even shown us, satisfactorily, what instinct is* HlsprinripU
of iife is a brain-begotten thing, having no being in reality ;
and the*^ eertain natural powers" by which it operates can
be nothing besides the principle itself, and the same may be
said of itfl operation ; yet the sum and substance of what he
has told us about instinct, is, that it is this ^' operation."

We grant that under the present state of our knowledge, it
may be difficult to give a saii{>fac(ory expliination of instinc-
tive actious \ but this is sure : he that says organized beings

336

act as tli^y <1o, under fhe circumstance? they are placed, be-
cause Ihev are organized as they are, gives as complete an
explanation ofall their actions, as he that refers these actions
to unknown entities. What is ihe difference, so far as it re-
s ects the mere expUnation of an action, whether we say it
is nn action ofan organ which is organized so as to act thu?,
under the circum«?tances of the casex or whether we say it is
an action ofan organ which is enabled to act thus, by the su-
peraddition ofan immaterial principle ? Or, what is the dif-
ference, whether we say the conscient phenomena of animals
are actions of organs, or say they are actions of a soul, a life,
a will, an instinct. &;c. &^c. ? To be sure, in the one case
we refer these phenomena or actions lo real beings, of which
a man ma} have some idea, in the other case, to brain-begot-
ten nonentities, of which a man can have no idea ; but so far
a^ it respects any eo^planaiion of these phenomena, there is no
difference except in sound : only give those organs the names
of soul, will, life, instict, &c. and there would not be even this
d.fference.

Altho' we do not profess to be able to give a complete and
satisfactory explanation of instinctive phenomena; still we
cannot close this chapter without offering a few more senti*
ments concerning them, than we have in the fore part of it.

We suppose that the organic passions, which, by the by,. may
be called appetites^ desires^ longings, hankerings^ and perhaps
^e may add, proptnsilics, arc the springs that give rise to in-
stinctive actions. This being ^r^^ntt* d, the following questions
arise- First. Wfiv do anirnHls igiioranl of consequences, so
seldom do anything which \6 not subservient to their well be-
iig ^ Second, Asanorgr.nic passion is n(>t a muscular action,
but a cause, more or less reinott*, ol muscular actions ; what
events take place in the >ystem between the rise of an organic
pa^^aion and ihc musculai contrdCliOiis that must and do take

337

place in gratifying such passion; or in other words, in what
waj do the organic passions give rise to muscular actions ?

In answer to the first question, we say that animals are so or-
ganized that they have no natural appetites or propensities to
do any thing which is nctYor their good ; and not being led to
do any thing because they judge it will be to their good, (as
they often are after acquiring many sensorial tendencies, and
hence often do wrong, for they often judge erroneously,) they
seldom do any thing which is not to their good.*

The second question is the most difficult to answer ; but in
our attempts to answer it, we may derive some aid from the.
facts, if facts they be, pointed out in the chapter on volition.

Those organic passions which give rise to instinctive actions
we will, for the present, call hankerings for Something — ^not
hankerings for any particular thing which the young animal
has any idea of before he have seen it — but a hankering for
somethings or if you please, a hankering. The young duck
hatched by a hen has a hankering for something, and the new-
born calf has a hankering for something; but sii^ppose them
both at the side of a pond, the one with its foster-mother the
hen, the other with its natural mother a cow ; the hankering of
the duck will cause it to rush into the water, while the han-
kering of the calf will cause it to lay hold of the cow's teats
and suck. Now why this difference ?• Why does not the calf
rush into the water, and the duck attempt to suck the cow?
We cannot say the duck's hankering is a desire to go into the
water, and that this is the reason it goes into the water ; for a
desire to go into the water supposes an idea of water, but by
supposition, the duck has no idea of water. We believe it
is an ultimate fact that whatever will gratify an inward long-
ing of a young animal, looks go«d as soon as he sees it, feels
good as soon as he feels it, and tasted good as soon he tastes

it, without having previously learned that it will promote

43

J •

338

i»W

Tt3 health or make it grow; and that the duck goes int(>(the
watex* because its or^ 'mci>a8sions are such that the Wc&ter
looks good, or seems c sirable ; and that the calf lays hol4^of
the cow^s teats for siiriilar reaaoDs*

But an animal to bL e^Tiankcring, and to see sometl
before, is'not to lay ho. of such thing — to lay hold supposes
motions, supposes masc *ir contractions, supposes motive ac^
tions of the nervous aystif^m «ow what governs, as we ma>
say, these motive action?;tro'ire they immediately anteceden' M

or caused by the conscie**. ctions that constitute the hanker- '•

»

ings ? or are they immed«i^ ely antecedented by the actions
excited by the things that appear good, desirable or inviting ?
or do they set in, on the co existence of both these sensations ?
The duck may have its h ikering for something, but seeing
no water may stay by the bide of its mother, the hen, which
never goes into the water ; and again, the duck having been
in the wjater suffers such a change in its system, that for the
time being, has no such L. ikering, but a desire to return to
its mother on the land, an.1 so goes to its mother, and does
not immediately go into the water again, although it still sees
the water. Such being the facts, it would appear that in the
case of the duck, the hankering and the goodly looking thing,
have each a share in giving rise to its movements.

But it may be said that migrating birds and lish steer oiT
certain courses to certain places which they never saw ; and
this too perhaps without being guided by any that have seen
such places ; and to such birds and fish these places do not
look desirable or pleasant; for they neither see them nor
have an idea of them. Now what causes these birds and fish
to steer ofT these courses as they do ? We suppose it is the
mere pleasure, — the mere feeling of fitness or right which
they experience in doing so; and we suppose if they turn out
of these courses, they do not feel woil^ do not feel right. —

1
I
i
i

r

339

suppose that a young duck hatched by a ben, on a dry plain,
wou i steer off some striigbt course until it came to water^if
its-%.iganic passions were such that it Wf.pld experience a pie^«
surable and proper feeling merely in ctting so.

We suppose that migrating birds and fish steer off to oth-
er regions at certain times o^ year, kxause at such times o^
year such changes taice place in theif.iinward feelings, and in
the weather, that they feel better ii».iloing so, than in staying
where they are. Young amuuf > -yi from the feelings of the
nioment, and not from any long-t) ^led calculations about fu-
ture consequences ; and they do t > ')t which is right because
there is nothing to cause them to ^o otherwise, and there are
no effects without causes.

Men may draw some confirma-fon of what we have said
concerning instinctive phenome' i, by considering what they
experience in Ihemselves. We liave supposed that instinctive
actions are such as the organic passions lead animals to per-
form without knowing, and Consequently without thinking
about or regarding, the consequences of such cxiions ; now do
not organic passions^often lead nien to perform actions, not be-
cause they expect any future good to arise from performing
ihem, but because of the pleasure they experience in perform-
ing them ? Do they not often act without paying any regard to
or even thinking about future consequences, and even in some
cases in which they believe the future consequencesjwill be bad,
rather than good ? Think of the venereal appetite. In ninety-
nine cases of a hundred, we consider these movementi as strictly
instinctive, and not performed because, by a chain of reasoning,
the man or woman has come to a conclusion that it will be to
his or her future well being. Nature spurs them on as she
does the young mammalian to suck.

Again. Does noCa man know that a lady looks peculiarly
good, desirable, or inviting, on account of a peculiar organic

■

1

340

passion of his ? and does be not know that when this passion is
gratiQed, bis mere sexual love is abated ; but that it returns
again, as the passion returns? And 1 would put this question:
Suppose a man have been brought up to the age of 20, with*
out ever having seen a woman or learned any thing con-
cerning one, and yet so. brought up as not to fear to approach
any being. Now let him loose among women and all sorts of
animals — let not a word be said, or an indicative motion be
made ; (we will have the lyavv^n naked if you please ;) do you
not suppose the women #oiild seem to him more agreeable,
fitting and desirable tha#!hDy of the other living beings about
him ? Would he not associate with them, in preference to any
of the other animals ? If you admit these questions, why would
you not admit that water looks desirable to an untaught duck,
and that he rushes into it, not because he has learnt by expe-
rience that it will be to his good, but because of some organic
passion ?

If the immaterialists are not satisfied with our speculations
concerning instinctive phenomena, (we do not say concern-
ing inslincl^ for there is no such thing,) may they offer some-
thing better: remembering all the while, that we do not cal-
culate to be deceived by empty talk, and led to suppose that
they explain things when they only mystify them.

341

CHAPTER XXV.
Of* Sleep.

According to our views, nolhing is easier than to define
sleep. It is that state of a living aninial, in which no con-
scient actions occur. Indeed, we may leave out the word
living, for in truth a dead animal is just no animal at all ;
and such are the sentiments of those who say of a man who
has died, he no longer exists.

But although we can have no doubts that a sleeping state
is a state in which neither sensations (of course not percep*
tions) or thoughts occur, ^till some questions may arise con*
cerning sleep ; as, does a man ever sleep ? if he do, what cau-
ses operate in bringing him into a sleeping state ? and how do
these causes operate in bringing about the ultimate efTect ?

There are but few, perhaps not any, who will not readily
admit that they do sometimes sleep, according to our defini-
tion of the term; but putting aside one's own belief about
the matter, it is not so easy to prove, by argument, that a
man ever sleeps, as some may at first think. However, he
that asserts that a man never sleeps, asserts that of which
there is not any evidence — there is nothing to favor the opin-
ion that a man never -sleeps ; his continuing to breathe, we
consider as no evidence of such opinion. But there are some
considerations in favor of the opinion that a man often sleeps,
and they may have some weight |iriih those who may be dis-
posed to maintain that a man's belief that he sometimes sleeps,
is no proof that he believes correctly.

«

It must be, and is admitted, even by immaterialists, that
thinking supposes some kind of exercise of the brain \* and

* Abernetiiy, the latest medical writer whose love of popularity

^

342

every studious man is as sensible that this exercise wcarie-
his br.iin as he i:^ that walking wearies his lower limbs. IIg
knows too, that during those hours in which he is not awake,
and in which he does not dream as he can remember^ this wea-
riness of his brain, like the weariness of his limbs^ goes off;
but when he does dream, as he can remember, he is sensible
that the weariness of bis brain does not pass off, as when be
does not dream. Finally, there is much evidence in favor«.
if not absolute proof of the opinion, that a man often sleeps ;
and until something more than we can now think of, can be
brought in favor of the opinion that a man never sleeps, it
will be a principle with us, that a man sleeps during that time
which seems a perfect blank to him, and during which he
dreamt not, as he can remember.

The causes of sleep are muscular, or even mere sensorial,
exercise ; narcotics ; and compression of the brain.

By exercise, the seusorium, or we may say, the whole ner-
Tous system, suffers such a change that it is not in such good
condition to act — is not so disposed to act, as before such ex-
ercise, other things being equal. Hence stronger or more in-
teresting impressions, or stronger sensorial tendencies, are
neces'sary to keep a man awake after exercise, than before ;
hence, too, a man retiring from noise to a soft couch, and clo-
sing his eyes, sooner ceases to think and sense, after having
studied or toiled all day, than he does on placing himself in a
similar situation when not tired. .

We may say that exercise is a predisposing cause of sleep,
and ttie avoiding of impressions a more immediate cause. To
go to sleep, is to have all conscient actions cease. We do

has given him courage to advocate the doctrine of im materialism,
has " admitted the assertion that the brain is as much an organ ot
sensation and thought, as the liver and stomach are organs for the
secretion of bile and gastric fluid."

sit

uot beHeve inai in ordinarj cases, the conscient actTona of
th.brain are stopped by any accamulation of blood within the
brain. There is no need of such a supposition to account for
ordinary or healthy sleep* We do not see why, when the
brain is not in a good condition to act, and strong impressions
are avoided, it should not cease to act until it suflfer a change
of condition, or until stronger impressions are made upon
some of the sentient nerves. — Because the sensorial tenden-
cies arc sufficient to keep up an action of the brain whenit is
in a good conditbn to act, it does not follow that they may
keep up such actions under other circumstAnceE.

But there is some reason to suppose that narcotics induce
sleep by causing the vessels of the brain to become more dis-
tended with blood, hereby obstructing the actions of the sen-
sorium. It may be, however, that they aflfect the condition
of the brain, so as to cause sleep in some other way. This
is certain, after full doses of opium are taken, the vessels of
the head become more full. By turning to page 163, the
reader will find our notions concerning the modus operandi of
opium in producing sleep. We wish the immaterialists would
tell us how they suppose opium operates in stopping the ac-
tions of their unejttended soul, or prevents it from changing
" states." — An unextended thing can never be squeezed or
obstructed in any of its actions : we suspect, too, that it pos-
sesses no chemical affinities.

That morbid sleep is sometimes caused by compression,
there can be no doubt. A pice of skull driven in upon the
brain, or an accumulation of blood as in apoplexy, or of wa-
ter, as in hydrocephalus, stops the conscient actions of the
brain in this way ; and when no conscient action of the brain
can be excited, (meaning by brain all the nervous matter with-
in the skull,) no sensation can be excited ; for the co-existence

344

of a conscient action of the organic and cerebral extremities
of a nerve is as essential to a sensation, as two tongs put to-
gether are to a pair of tongs.

Before closing this chapter, a few words may be offered
concerning some of the causes that may prevent sleep. It is
qnite conceivable and even probable that a morbid action of
the minute vessels of the brain, especially that part of it which
wc call the scnsorium, may prevent the conscient actions of
the sensoriiim from ceasing, may cause a morbid watchfulness.
The physician often finds great difficulty in causing his pa-
tients to sleep in such diseases as^are attended with an excit-
ed action of the vessels of the brain — excited, as he has good
reason to believe from other considerations than merely that
his patient cannot sleep. With that disease peculiar to hard
drinkers, known by the name of Delirium Tremens, or Brain
Fever, it is not uncommon for patients to pass three or four
days and nights in succession without sleeping.

Another cause of watchfulness may be exceedingly strong
sensorial tendencies. — Whatever appears to us to have an
important influence on our happiness, interests us greatly,
and whatever interests us greatly, gives rise to very strong
sensorial tendencies ; either because we think much about it,
or because our thoughts relative to this thing are very in-
tense. Now when the sensorium is strongly disposed to think
about any thing, the man will sometimes lie tumblipg and
thinking half the night, in spite of all his " willing^' to go to
sleep. When any painful disease exists ; when the brain is in
a rested state; or excited by tea, spirits, &c. it is difficult go-
ing to sleep.

For the purpose of further illustrating and confirming the
metaphysical, or more properly, physiological principles, we
have already advanced; and with the view of dispelling some

346

of the darkness which hangs over several interesHng subjects,
we now proceed to treat of some of ctie morbid actions and
conditions of the nervous system.

•00-

CHAPTER XXVI.
On Dreamingj Somnambvlism, and Somnamloquism*

Man exists in three states, a sleeping, a dreaming and a wak-
ing stale. The dreaming state though essentially different
from either of the other two, partakes more of the nature of
the waking than the sleeping state.

Although it is very common for persons to dream, we class
dreaming among the morbid actions of the nervous system;
and chiefly for the three following reasons : First, Diseased
persons are more apt to dream than well ones. Second, We
cannot see that dreaming is subservient to the well being of
the individual who dreams, as all healthy actions are. Third,
We suppose that in dreaming, conscient action:? sometimes
commence in the sensoriam and extend info the nerves, as
they probably do in delirium, which last affection is univer-
sally admitted to be a morbid one.

Tliere is no difficulty in pointing out an obvious distinction

between a sleeping, and a dreaming or a waking state ; but

to determine the precise nature of the difference between a

dreaming and a waking state, appears to be rather more dif&*

cult. And although it will be admitted that in most cases

there is a wide, nay, an essential difference between these

two states ; yet, for a short time, a man sometimes exists in

such a state that he scarcely knows whether to consider it a

dreaming or a waking state.

44

^46

We Uelieve th«t in a breaming state, either the organic er-
tremiliM of the nerves or (he parts exterior to Ihem, are id
,urh a Mate that impressions do not so readily exc.te conscient
cfons in them as in a w»king«ta<e; we helievr also ikaf the
sensorium is „vl m so active a dale as in wnkmg hours. But
both of these th.Hgs together do not constiuite all the differ-
ences between a dreaming and a waking slate-there is some-
thing more, but this something mor« may be owing to the tor-
por of the sen<e<.

We l>elieve, as the reader knows, that ro.iscient actions
fomolimis commence in the sensori.im and extend into the
neives : now this is what we suppose tak.s place when a man
dnams of se< mg object*, hearing noises, Sic We believe
that when a man dreams of seeing any object, be has some-
thing more than an idea or coiiceplion of siM.h object— we
believe that the same, or very nearly the same, conscienl ac-
tions lake place in him that would were he, when nwake, to
look at such object. In short, we believe that when a matt
breams he very «.f.en has— what we will for the present call-
perceptions without impressions ; and that this constitutes
another difference between a dreaming MtA ateaking; or if
you please, between a dreaming and a waking slate. But
conscient actions may extend from the sensorium into the
nerves when a man is dreaming though not when he is awake,
btcamii the semes are in a torpid stale. It roust be admitted
that only one action can take place in the same part at the
same time; and it is not unreasonable to suppose that when
the senses are in such condition as lo be easily eicited by sur-
rounding impressions, these impressions excite the sentient
ntrves more strongly than the thoughts can excite them.
Hence in a healthy waking man, we have no perceptions with-
out impressions-; (not couiideriuis «<«<<« of organs as impres-
sions.)

847

Curious qaestion« nowarise : — When a man dream<< of hear-
ing noises, se^ii'g objecls, &c. do the ronsricnt achoiis whirh
extend from ihe5<;nj?oriiim into the nervosi, extend lo theorgaii-
ic extremities oflhe nerves, or onl} into their cerebral VxiremU
iiesi ? And if they extend onl) into the cerebral extremitieSi
trhat shall we say they constitute ? — It is clear thai they con*
stitute neither a sensation or a perceptions according to our
deiinitions of these terms, and yet they are something mort
than a thought.

Our views concerning these questions are rather complica*
Ud ; but we will labor to express them as clearly as we can*
We are inclined to believe that conscieut tctions very fre«
quently extend from the sensorium into the ceiebral cxtrem*
ities of the nerves in dreaming, but rarely ^o far as to tlie^or<»
gani<. extremities* l.i the former case we would ^ay these
actions constitute impfrjeci retrograde perceptions 5 in the
latter, perfect retro^^ade perceptions. Now with respect to
the optic and auditery nerves, their organic and cerebral ex*
tremities are so near to each other, that an imperfect optical
or audial perception may be so nearly like a perfect one* as to
iikfluence a man^s conduct the same as a perfect one. If so,
a man on awakening, after having hail an imperfect ptfrcep*
tion of his friend, would sa} (for to say is to conduct^ as much
as to run, stab, or perform any other muscular action.) " I
hav(! dreamed of seeing my friend, and if seemed tl|e same to
me as though I had really seen him.''

But with respect to tbo«e nerves^.the organic extremities
of which are more distant from the ceretiral, we believe that
a conscient action of the sensorium and of the cerebral ex-
tremity of one of these nerves, would not constitute a seeming
10 like that consisting of a conscient actioo of 60/A extremities
of such nerve and the set|^orium, that the man would say they
are the same. Tbeiefure, as we seldom have ptrftci per-

348

ceptions white dreaming, it seldom seems to as as though we
experience feelings in distant parts of our bodies, or in other
word?, we seldom have feelings in distant part^ of our bodies,
which feelings are causfd by the actions of the sensonum.
It is true, we may dream of seeing a red hot iron, or a piece
of ice, and of laying our hands upon them, (for all this would
be but to have conscient actions of the sensorium and the
optic rierves,) but on awakening we should not *ay it seemed
to us as though I he irofj burned us, or the ice made our hands
ache with the cold. We ourselves have dreamed of holding
our hands in n fire, but we were never burned in vsuch cases —
we never smarted at the time, or awoke as we should if fire
had actually bt^en applied to our hand^. But we have dream-
ed of seeing objects, [have had imperfect optical perceptions
of objects when not a wake J and our consciousness was so very
near like a perfect seeing of such objects, that at this moment
we should say. prcciseAy the same actions took place in us,
that would were we to look at such objects when awake ;
were it not for certain pathological facts.*

That we have something more than ideas of objects when
we set ihem in our dreams, we no more doubt than we do
that we ever dream.*— Every man must know that there is an
essenti'^l difference between a sensation and an idea ; that
they do not diff r only in degree , and if any one doubt his
having any thing more than pretty vivid ideas of objects when
he sets them in his droammg hours, we would request him to

* It IS snid that aittT a niari has had the organic extremities of
his np\\r lUTve- d-s!royed, h»' still drpfirns of spfiii^ ohjecLs as be-
fore. And a youn? man rendered perfeclly blind by a disease
which nndouhteiily .iflV-'ifd his optic nerves in some part of their
conrse fruii the ensotiuni !o the retinae; i^'lls me that he still sees
ohj' «'(s ill hi;t dreams, as befufe he met with this lamentable mis-
fortuue.

349

pay attention to his dreams, when he dreams^ or as soon as he
awakes.*

As to audial perceptions while dreaming, we believe that
we frequently have imperfect ones, and sometimes perfect
ones ; and that the latter are (hose which cause us to awake
as suddenly as though the perception were a natural one — as
though it were excited by an impression.

As to (hose perceptions which consist, in part, of actions

#

of nerves of feeling, we believe there are many men, and
some women, who might testify that (hey have, while dream-
ing, expel ienced such perceptions ; at(ended too with other
sensible phenomena which convince (hem that there is no
mistake about the matter. But there may be some dispute
whether these perceptions commence in the sensorium, or
the genital organs. — We are of the opinion thai they some-
times commence in the one. and sometimes in the other*

We have said that the sensorium is less active in a dream-
ing than in a waking state. By this, we mean it is not so
much disposed to act, and its actions are less intense than in
a waking state ; but many say their thoughts or ideas are
more distinct or vivid when. dreaming than when awake ;
and such persons may be disposed to maintain that whatever
thinks is more active during dreaming than during waking

hours. Such persons, we believe, mistake weak or imper-

-

* It is not so absurd to request one to attend to his dreams while
dreaming, as some may thini< : owinp to our desire to determine
what takes place in us when we dream, we have often dreamed
about our dreams, atid .sati^fifd ourselves at the time, that when we
see objects or hear noises iu our dreams, we have something more
than optical or audial ifieas ol such objects or noises. How much
weight waking men in general may pbce in their dreaming conclu-
sions, we know not ; but our requesting them to attend to their
dreams while dreaming, may be a cause of their doing so ; and by
doing so, they may be satisfied at the time, that they have some-
thing more than mere ideas.

350

feet perceptianB for vivid i^deas. Perhaps, by rlosir>goaT
<yes when awake, wo may have more distinct ideas ofabscnt
objects than when ihey are open, and this too for obv ions
reasons ; but vihen a man is dreaming, we beheve fhat the
coiiscient actions of his sen^orium, and nerves too, are less
intense, and those of the sensorium less numerous, than %vheR
awake.

"^ It has beei*! said that in dreaming hours, onr thoughts occur
in very unnatural relations, and that we imat^ine many stran^j^e
and unnatural thinas ; and yet it is generally admitted that
their succession is governed by the same principles as when
awake* Now if their snccesswn be goversu'd by the *ame
priacipies as when awake, and they do in fict occur in odd
relations, we do not see how the immaterialistscan account
for the fact* If they assert that tliese principles are any thing
bet-ides ultimate facts or iazos of Ihuught — which, by the by,
are as truly laws of nahtrt as atiy other ultimate and univer-
aal facts — we call on them to prove the assertion ; but if they
admit that the} are nothing more, we ask if these principles,
these laws of nature, are out of lune^ v>\\en a man dreams-
and if not, we ask the cause of his thoughts occurring inuo"
natural relations.

The materialist, however, is not much puzzled by the phe*
oomena of dreaming: he supposes (hat if our ideas, nhen
awake, should become perceptions — that if our sensorial ac*
tioirs should be attended with corresponding actions of the
optic and auditory nerves — we should hear noises, see strange
objects, and be in ns many different and distant places in a mi-
nute, as when we dream ; our ideas or sensoriai actions oc-
curring in the same natural order that they now do, when we
are awake* If the optical and audial ideas which I shall
have while writing the following paragraph, should, at the
time they occur, be atteuded with nervous actions, so a^

3^1

to breome opfiriil and aiidial pfrcfp/fori5, Ishould (as reallj
as wheii I dream,) sjee as many strange things, be in as manjr
distant places, and converge with as many absent friends, ina
minute, as f did in my last nis^ht^i^ dream.

Thousands of soldiers on Drerfield Plains — Shoulder arms,
cries out (hat tall officer with a long red and white feather ia
his hat-^Ah, here^s !he city of Troy — What a noble block of
biiiidin<;s that — Really, friend Janes, I am light glad to see
you ht*n! at Brii;hion again — did you thrust your fist down a
wild hoards throat and pull out his liver and lights ? No. but
I rode through the air astride a barber's striptd pole, and saw
the clouds burning with a blue flame, apd a mighty snapping
there was — Come along here ; do you see that monstrous ox,
with a ram's head slicking out just behind his udder !

While writing the above sentence I had ideas of distant
places, unnatural things, absent friends, and of sounds ; and if
my ideas had been perfect or imperfect perceptions I should
have experienced something very similar to what a dreaming
m^n experiences ; yvA no one will contend that my thoughts
did not occur acrording to the same principles that they do at
other times; or contend that it is any more stiange tlial they
should occur as they did, than it is that an idea o( squilh should
be followed by ideas of a sick fnai., coughing and spitting.

> But notwithstanding what we have said, we admit thai a
man's dreaming thoughts may often occur in singular rela-
'^tions. and we should not be at a lo8s to account for their do»
ing so» We may suppose that as the sensorium is not in a
very active condition durin^r dreaming, many of its tendencies
may be too weak to give rise to actions ; hence instead of
thinking over all the thoughts that usually constitute a certain
train, some of these thoughts may not occur, may be left out,
as it were ; and of course^ those that do occur, occur in a new
and singular relation •

It sometimes happens that when a man is not awake, those
motive aotioiis of his brain which precede the contractions of
the muscles of locomotion and voice, will not set in, on the
occurrence of certain sensorial actions, as they do when the
man is awake. In such case the man may urgently desire to
speak, or move his limbs or body, but cannot — his muscles
do not contract. He has the Incubus or nightmare. We
are inclined to believe that in some rare cases, even those
motive actions of the brain which precede the contractions of
the muscles of respintion, cease, aind the person dies without
moving a limb. We well recollect a death which we conjec-
ture wa? caused in this way. It was the death of an elderly
gentleman who had not been threatened with any kind of fits,
nor suspected of having any disease of the bloodvessels. He
died in bed ; and from all appearance, it was evident that he
died without moving a limb. Query. If in such cases, the cir-
culation should cease the instant the respiration ceases, would
such changes take place in the system as to render it impos-
sible to excite it into actioiv again, so quickly as when the
heart continues to beat, and thus gives rise to accumulations
of venous blood ?

At other times those motive actions of the brain which pre-
cede the contractions of the muscles of loco-motion and voice,
do as readily set in on the occurrence of certain sensorial ac-
tions, as when the person is awake. In such case the person
talks, walks, and performs many other muscular actions. It^
is not generally the case, however, that the same person talks
and walks in his dreaming hours; and indeed, sleep talking
and sleep walking are considered as dilferent affections, and
are furnished with different names, — somnamloquism for the
former, and somnambulism for the latter ; but they are not es-
sentially different, pathologically considered.

In some instances the somnambulist's eyes are wide open ;

853'

«nd it is probahle that his optic nenres are ip as eTcitahle ft
condition, as when his otbf^r senses are npt in a torpid state,
as when he is»awake. If so, he has natural and perfect per*
ceptions, he sees as distnictlj as a waking man does with the
same degree of light. At other times his eyes are closed,
and he goes about from place to place as a man ia
the dark, or as a bliud man, and sometimes meets with acci-
dents. Those who are fond of the roarrellous do not tell us of
the accidents which somnambulists meet with, in their blind
excursions ; but these ac6idents occur so frequently that most
men are acquainted with particular instances. We have ma*
nj wonderful accounts, or many accounts of the viond*rful do-
ingSj of somnambulists ; but they have not puzzled philoso-
phers so much as the somniloqtiists. The latter often utter
long discourses, particularly religious discourses, when alone
or when closely surrounded by many persons, and with greater
fluency than they probably would, were they awake. If ques-
tions are put to them, they often give rational answers ; and
what is perhaps still more difficult to account for, they cannot
remember, after they awake, that they dreamed or uttered
any thing — provided we may rely on their testimony*

We suppose that somniloquists cannot generally remein-
Bcr their dreams, because they consist of ideas only. — A man
never remembers his mere ideas. We remember our per-
ceptions, that is, we rememder what we have seen^ heard^ &c«
But to have an idea occur to us (o-day, is not to remember that
it occurred to us last night, or at any other particular time.
Ideas may occur to us to-day, which are not new to us, and
which we do not consider as such ; but to remember that they
occurred to us at a particular time, we must have an }dea of
ourselves in a place at a certain iime^ must have ideas of the
thmgs that were around us at that time, and must think that

this idea occurred to us when we weie iusuch place. When a

45

354

man remembers a dream, he remembers or thinks of, what he
saw^ heard, &c. when he was not awake. A man maj have
thousands of mere ideas when not awakes byt if he have
DO perceptions, he cannot say, when awake, that these ideas
occurred to him when he was not awSke : Milhons of ideaa
occur to the waking man every day, and at night he may not
be. able to say, with certainty that o«ie of them has occur*
red to him this day. The reader will remember that in the
chapter on sleep, we came to the conclusion that we often lie
hours together without having any ideas, not so much from
the consideration that we cannot remember, after we awake^
that any ideas occurred to us during these hours, as from oth-
er considerations.

But we shall be told that somniloquists do sometimes have
perceptions ; that they give rational answers to questions, and
undoubtedly hear and regard, such questions. This we must
grant ; but they do not have mch perceptions as enable them
to say in the morning, that they had these perceptions the night
previous. Ask them if they ever heard or thought of such ques*
tion as you know was put to them last night, and they may
tell you yes, but cannot say whether it was last nighty yester-
day, or a year ago.

If this way of accounting for the fact, that somniloquists
are often, nay, generally, unable to remember that they dream*
ed at the time that bystanders heard them talk, be not satisfiic-
tory to all, we shall not thing it strange. We are not, our*
selves, entirely satisfied with it; but under tlie present state
of our ignoranee we cannot account for it in a more plausible
way. We assume what we cannot prove, and what some
may not be disposed to grant ; and that is, that the dreams
which somniloquists cannot remember, are not like the
drenms which men do remember, but consist of mere ideas
with a few scattering perceptions*

355

Should the remarks of the present writer be thought wocr
thj of notice, the assertion, that we never remember ouc
Idea?, may give rise to ingenious discussions ; and if so,
we doubt not that it will be determined that we do not re*
member an idea, in the sense we remember a thunder shower,
or any other event that takes place without.

That a man should readily hear when not awake/ is nol
more strange, Mian th^t one sense should be less torpid, at th#
time others are more torpid.

The reason why somniloquists sometimes talk more flu-
ently than they would were they awake, is this, their train of
ideas relative to the subject concerning which they talk, is not
interrupted by such discordant ideas or sensorial actions, at
would occur were they awake* When a waking man con-
verses with others on any Object, he thinks what words are
most proper for him to use ; thmks how his hearers will bp
pleased with what he says ; thinks what they will think of his
person and jestures; in short, he has many perceptions and
ideas which prevent the regular, connected flow of ideas rela«
tive to the subject he is talking about; and hence does not
converse with the ease and fluency that he would were he in
the condition of a somniloquist. We are all of usacquaiftt^
ed with men who undoubtedly think fiiiely in their studies;
but who, when they attempt lo speak in public, make very
bad work of it. A man cannot speak in public, flippantly
and to the purpose, until he be regardless about what words
he uses, regardless about what his hearers will think : he must
think right on about his subject, and nothing but his subject.

As to the immediate cati^e^ of dreams, they may be divided
into two classes, sensorial and nervous. The sensorial caus-
es are nothing more nor less than the sensorial tendencies ; thd
nervous are such states of organs, and such impressiout| as
give I ise to actions of our nerves*

356

There are many causes which serve to bring the nerroas
system into that weak, ticklish state which medical men call
trriiablt ; all such causes may be considered as predisposing
causes ofdreanis. AiTections of iUe digestive organs; mental,
or more properly sensorial agitations, and hard drinking are
of this kind*

When a weary man firatgoes to sleep, his nervoas system is
not in a favorable condition to act ; but after sleeping some
time, his nervous system becomes recruited, and as the sen-
' florium is disposed to act — as it has many and strong tenden-
cies to act, it will set to work of its own accord, if it be not
aet (o work by some nervous action. Every ^hing else being
equal, the stronger sensorial tendencies give rise to actions in
.preference to the weaker, and as we are strongly disposed
to think about such subjects as we have recently thought much
about, our iensoriai dreams (speaking wi(h reference to their
cause) generally relate to such subjects as nave lately engag-
ed our attention during our waking hours.

When dreams are caused by states of organs, or by im-
pressions, they generally have some relation to such organs,
or to the impressing agents. Thus, if a bottle of hot water
at the feet be the impressing agent, the person may dream of
making a journey to the top of Mount iEtna and of finding
the heat of the ground almost insupportable ; if a blister ap*
plied (o the head, the person may dream of being scalped by a
:f>arty of Indians. The bladder and seminal vessels being re-
plete with their respective fluids, give rise to dreams having
some relation to these organs. A full stomach, obstructing a
free motion of the diaphragm, causes an accumulation of blood
4iboat the heart and lungs, and in this way gives rise to a sense
of weight or load at the breast ; and the person dreams of a
" huge and hideous spectre, tyrannically squatted upon the
cfae^t, and striving to take away tiie breath.''

357

Persons oi^en start suddenly as thej are about going to sleep«
How are we to account for this ? We conjecture that the per-
son's ideas become perceptions at this instant, and seeitig him-
aelfin trouble the motive actions of the brain set in; for the
nervous system is not yet entire I)' calmed down into an inac-
tive state ; l>ut if it were, the motive actions would not thus set
in and cause the man to awake ; instead of this, he would lie in
a troubled dream, desiiittg to move, hut unable to do so*

We have expressed the opinion that, a healthy waking man
has no perceptions without impressions, (as in dreaming,) be-
cause surrounding impressions hold the mastery over the seq*
ftorium in exciting the sentient nerves.* Now, in certain
morbid states of the system this is not the case; but the
waking man sees spectres or apparitions, and hears them
talk ; and this is as much as to say, he sees and bears
what does not exist — sees and hears without impres-
sions* Fhilosopliers have not agreed on any name lor the
afiectioi) in wtuch a person sees and hears, when awake
without impris^ionp, and is at the bamc time to far from being
crazy as to rej<ard the whole a delusion, or the etTects of a
morbid state of the body, requiring physic, leeches and blis-
ters, it is an affection diflerenl from that commonly called
delirium; for in this last the thoughts occur in irregular, ua*
natufal relations — the sugt^esting principle is out of tune^ or as
some would say, ^' the judgment is disordered." However,
these false perceptions of a waking man have generally been
considered as ^^ treaks" of that little unruly wanderer called

* This way of accounting turtht* fact that a healthy waking man
has no perct;pti(Mis wiilioiit impressions, does noi appear eniiiely
satisfactory to us. Al some future period some new seutinieni coo-
cerning the matter may be advai)Cf*<l — Perhaps it may be hinted
that ivlifn we nre awake the sen^oriuni is so active that our tii' uf^nts
do not sitck by us long enooirli to g<ve rise to correspondiag ac-
tions of the cerebral extremities ot nerves.

3M

<he " imaginafion."— We propo* • to denominate tV affection
vrt are now speaking of, day-drc' ning.

We have recently met with the historjof a case of day^
dreanntng in the New-Cniand Galaxy, which was copied into
that paper from the Western Mouthly Review. The editor
of this review finds the story in a work which is entitled
^^Beaslev on the Human Mind,'' a work which is said
to he a compendium of ail that' has heretofore been writteo
upnt) the sub.ectof the human mind* This story is the nfK>re
interesting as it was originally given by the subject of the af-
fection, who was evidently a man of observation, and not un-
•acqii;tii)led with metaphjsicai subjects* We here give the
atory entire, as the editor of the Galaxy has taken it from the
abov^ mentioned Review^

*" M. Nicolai, a member of the Royal Society of Berlin,
some time since presented to that institution, a memoir on the
suiiject of a complaint with which he was affected ; and one
of the singular consequences of which was the representation
of various spectres or apparitions. M. Nicolai for some
years had been subject to a congestion in the head, and was
blooded frequently for it by leeches. After a detailed ac*
count of his health, on which he grounds much medical, as
well as psycological reasoning, he gives the following interest-
ing narrative.

^ hi the first two months of the year 1791, I was much af-
fected in mv mind by several incidents of a very disagreeable
nature ; and on the 24th of February, a circumstance occur-
red wlrch irritated me extremely. At ten o'clock in the fore*
noon, my wife and another person came to console me ; I was
in a violent perturbation of mind, owing to a seruis of inci-
doi f' w ijch had altom»ther wounded my moral feelings, and
fro.M which I s;iw .«o pni-sjbi'ity of relif f, when suddenly I ob-
8ervt;d at the distance of tea pacei from ine^^ a figure^ the tig*

859

ure of a d eased person. : pointed at it, find asked my wife
whether she did not see U. She said nothing, but being
tnurb alarmed, she endeavored to compose me, and sent for
the physician* The figuie remained some seven or eight
minutes, and at length I became a httle more calm ; and as I
was extrenieiy exhausted, Isoonafler fell into a troubled kind
of slumber, which lasted for about half an hour. The vision
was ascribed to the great agitation of mmd in which I had
been, and it was supposed that I should have nothing more
to apprehend from that cause ; but the violent affection hav
ing put mv nerves into an unusual state, from this arose other
consequences, which require a more detailed description,

' In the afternoon, a little after four o^clock, the figure
which I had seen in the morning again appeared. I was
alone when it happened ; a circumstance which, as ma^ be
easily conceived, could not be very agreeable. I went there-
fore to the apartment of my wife, to whom I related it. But
thither also the figure pursued me. Sometimes it was pre-
sent, sometimes it vanished ; but when seen it was always
the same standing figure. A little after six o^clock, several
stalking figures also appeared ; but they had no connexion
with the standing figure. I can assign no reason for this ap-
parition, than that, though niuch more composed in my mind^
I had*not been able so entirely to forget the caut<e of such
deep and distressing vexation^ and had reflected on the con-
sequences of it, in order, if possible, to avoid them ; and that
this happened three hours after dmner, at the time when the
digestion first begins.

* At length I became more composed, with respect to the
disagreeable incident which had given rise to the first appa-
rition, but though i had used very excellent medicines, and
found myself in other respects perfectly well, yet the appari*
tious did not diminish ; on the contrary, they rather increaa.-

3G0

ed in number, and were Iranerormcd in the modt extraordina-
Tj manner*

* After I had recovered from the first impression of terror,
I never felt mvself particularly agitated bj these apparitions,
as I considered than to be realty the extraordinary consequences
of indisposition. On the contrary, I endeavored as much as
possible to preserve my composure of niind, that I might re-
main distinctly conscious of what passed within mc* I ob-
served these phantoms with great accuracy, and very odon
reflected on my previoos thoughts, with a view to discover
some law in the association of ideas, by which exactly those
or other figures might present themselves to the imagiiuitioo.
Sometimes I thought I had made a discovery, especially in
the latter part of my visrons ; but on the whole, I could trace
no connexion which the various figures, that thus appeared
and disappeaicd to my sight, had with my state of mind, or
with my employment and the other thoughts which engaged
my attention. After frequent accurate observations on the
subject, having fairly proved and maturely considered it, I
could form no other conclusion than that when the nervous
system is weak, and at the same time too much excited, or

rather deranged, similar figures may appear tn such « jnanner
as if they were actually seeji and heard; for these visions in my
case, were not the consequence of any known law of reason,
of the imagination, or other usual association of idea ; and
such also is the case with other men, as far as we can reason
from the few examples we know.

* The figure of the dccrased person nerer appeared tome
after this drcadftil day ; but several other figures showed
themselves afterwards very distinctly ; sometimes such as I
knew, mostly however of persons 1 did not know ; and amorg
those known to mc, were the semblance of both living and
deceased persons, but mostly the former ; and 1 made the ob«

361

ser^atioD, that acquaintances with whom I daily conversed
never appeared to me as phantoms -, but always such as
were at a distance* When these apparitions had continued
some weeks, and I could regard them with the greatest com-
posure, I afterwards endeavored at my own pleasure to call
forth phantoms of several acquaintances, whom I, for that
reason, represented to my imagination in the most lively man*
ner, but in vain ^ for however accurately I pictured to my
mind the figures of such persons, \ never once could succeed
in my desire of seeing them externally, though ,1 had some
short time before seen them as phantom?, and they had, per-
haps, afterwards unexpectedly presented themselves to me ia
every case involuntarily, as if they had been presented ex-
ternally, hke the phenomena in nature ; though Ihey certainly
had their origin inlemally ; at the same time I was always able
to distinguish^ with the greatest precision^ phantoms from phc
nomena. Indeed I never once erred in this, as I was gen*
erally calm and self-collected on the occasion. I knew ex?
tremely well when it only appeared to me that the door was
opened and a phantom entered, and when the door really was
opened : and any person came in.

^ It is also to be noted, that these figures appeared to me at
all times, and under the most different circumstances, equally
distinct and clear. Whether I was alone or in company, by
broad daylight, or in the night time ; in my own, or in my
neighbor's house ; only when I was at another person's house
they were less frequent ; and when I walked the street, they
very seldom appeared. When I shut my eyes, sometimes
the figures disappeared ; sometimes they remained even af-
ter i closed them. If they vanished in the former case, on
opening my eyes again, nearly the same figures appeared
which I had^before seen.

' I sometimes conversed with my physician and my wife,

46

36f

concerning the phantoms which at the time horered around
ine ; for in general the forms appeared oftener in motion than
at rest. They did not always continue present ; they fre-
quently left me altogether, and again appeared for a short
time or a longer space of time, singly or more at once, but in
general several appeared together* For the most part, I savr
human fignres of both sexes ; they commonly pass^ed to and
fro as if they had no connexion with each other, like people
at a fair when all is bustle, sometimes they appeared to have
business with one another. Once or twice I saw among them
persons on horseback, and dogs and birds ; these figures all
appeared to me in their natural size, as distinctly as if they
bad existed in real life, with the several tints on the uncover-
ed parts of the body, and with alt the different kindst>f colours
of clothes. But I think, however, that the colors were some-
what paler than they are in nature.

' None of these 6gures had any distinguishing characters;
they were neither terrible, ludicrous or repulsive ; most of
them were ordinary in their appearance ; some were eveB
agreeable.

* On the whole, the longer I continued in this state, the
more did the number of the phantasms increase, and the ap*
paritions become more frequent. About four weeks after,
I began to hear rhem speak ; but for the most part they ad-
dressed themi^elves to me, and endeavored to console me in
my giief, which still left deep traces in my mind. This speak^
ing i heard most frequently when alone, though I sometimes
beard it in company^ intermixed with the conversation of real
persons ; frequently in single phrases only, but sometimes
even in connected discourse.

' Though at this time I enjoyed rather a good state of
health, both in body and mind, and had become so very fa-
miliar with these phantoms, that at last they did not excite

363

the least disagreeable emotion, but on the contrary, afforded
me frequent subjects Yor amusement and mirth; yet as the
disorder greatly increase49 and the figures appeared to me •
for whole days together, and even during the night ; if I hap*
pened to he awake, i had recourse to several medicinesi and
was at last again obliged to apply leeches.

* This was performed on the 20th of April, at eleven

O^clock in the forenoon, I was alone with the surgeon ; but

during the operatiofi the room swarmed with human forms of

every description, which crowded fast on one another ; this

continued till hdlf past four o'clock, when the digestion com*

mences* I then observed that the figures began to movt

slowly ; soon afterwards the colours became gradually paler,

and every seven minutes (hey lost more and m'>re of their in*

tensity, without any alteration in the distinct figure of the ap«

paritions. At half past six o'clock all the figures were entire*

]y white, and moved very little, yet the forms appeared per*

fectly distinct ; by degrees they became visibly less plain,*

without decreasing in number, as had often formerly been the

case. The figures did not move off, neither did they vanish,

which had also usually happened on former occasions. To

this instance they dissolved immediately in air; of some,

even whole pieces remained for a length of time, which also

by degrees were lost to the eye. At about eight o'clock there

did not remain a vestige of any of them, and I have never

since experienced any appearance of the kind. Twice or

thrice since that time I have felt a propensity, if I may be so

allowed to express myself, or a sensation as if I saw some*

thing, which in a moment again was gone. I was even s(ir*

prised by this sensation whilst writing the present account,

having in order to render it more accurate, perused the pa*

pert of 1791, and recalled to my memory all the circumstan*

604

cesoffhat time. So little arc we sometinrms, even in tlie
greatest co nposure of mind, m;)9ter3 of our iniaci;ination«(«^
^^'hose clauses which we have italicis^ed in the foregoing
I narrative, are'peciiiiariy interesting to us, as they are expres-
sions of facts and opinions which coincide with* our views.— >
Let us consider them separately and in order*

First., M. Nicolai regarded the apparitions which he saw,
as no apparitions at all — no beings, material or immaterial ;
but *' the extraordinary consequences of indisposition ;'* or in
Other words, morbid actions of that which thinks and senses,
the nervous system.

Second. After maturely considering the subject, M. Nico-
lai came to the conclusion, ** that when the nervous si/stem
is weak, and at the same time too much excited, or raik^pr de-
ranged, similar figures may appc^ar in such manner as if actw
ally seen and htard ;" or as we should express it : When the
nervous system is in an irritable state and much excited, such
'actions of the optic and auditory nerves may occur without
impressions as would be excited were the man to bee and
bear ar tnal beings.
^ The. /Atr</ clause in italics isespecpially worthy of notice, as
it goes to refute the vulgar not ons concerning the '' sonis" or
"ghosJs" of dfjceased persons. All who are so little acquaint-
ed with the animal economy as to believe in the existence of
these brain-begotten nonentities,' admit that when the unex-
tended soul, or the extended jihost, (both the same thing — at
least, the immaterialists h;ive not mformed us to tiie contra-
ry ) quits the body — quits it brcHuse iU organization has suf-
fered deningement— ihe 6or/y (not the man, for the immate-
riafists place personal id«;ntity in the sameness of that unex-
tended rhing which ihi. ks ) dies ; but M. Nicoiai saw the
iouls ghos»s. apparitions, or pliautoms ''ofbothihe^hiYiM
mnd the dead.^^

365

The fourth claufse favors the opinion which we ventured to
give (bt»foro we saw the above narrative) concerning our per-
ceptions in night-dreanning ; and that is, that these percep-
tions are for the most part imperfect^ that is, they do not sup-
pose an action of the organic extremities of nerves ; and yet
our optical and audial ones are so nearly hke perfect ones, as
to influence a man^s conduct much the same as perfect ones,
or in other words, as to be mistaken for perfect ones. Al-
though M. Nicholai's morbid perceptions were almost exactly
like natural ones — although they were certainly something
essentially different from mere ideas or conceptions^ still, be*
iDg awake and rational, he '^ was always able to distinguish,
with the greatest precision, phantoms from phenomena ;'' and
we have no reason to suppose that he did so by resorting to
the testimony of the sense of feeling — by putting forth his
bands to feel the phaptoms in the places where they appear-
ed to be.

If the present chapter on dreaming have the effect of doing
away the absurd notions so generally entertained concerning
dreams, apparitions, ghosts, hobgubliusi and the like^ we shall
not think it useless.

00-

CHAPTER XXVII.
On Insanity*

We treat of insanity in a physiological point of view ; we
have nothing to say of its causes or tre<itment ; our oh!(.( t ig
to point out its nature. If 'he read< r do not letTiemtu i ' i.at
judging consists in, acconliug to our viewi), we would nav#

366

bim return to the seventeenth chapter of this work, before he
proceeds any farther.

It is not probable that a case ever did or will occur in
which three of the five senses testified falsely concerning one
thing ; but if the eye, the ear, and the hand, should testify to
any person that an enemy is present, threatening him. when
there is not, such person would undoubted!) believe thai sudi
person is present, and all the world could not change his be-
lief; of course, his conduct would be so influenced by bis
false perceptions, that all sane persons would pronounce him
insane, respecting this enemy, if nothing more. We see,
then, that a case of insanity from false perceptions is supposa-
bU. But the case of M. Nicolai shows that when the thoughts
occur in a natural order— 2oAe» the suggesting principle is in
w^der, a man may have false optical and audial perceptions,
and yet, so far from being insane, reason on all subjects as
ioundly as the soundest philosopher. This then is essential
to insanity— <Ae suggesting principle must be out of order ; or in
plain mattcr-of foct language, the sensorium must act helter-
skelter, first one thought and then another, without any pro-
per order or relation.

When the nervous system is in such state that the sensori-
um acts thus, the schoolmen would say, the judgment is dis-
ordered ; and furthermore, when the nervous system is in
tuch state, false perceptions are apt to arise ; when iheae oc-
cur, they would say, the perception is disordered, or the roan

is {lelirious*

According to our views, delirium is not essential to insani-
ty ; but, although a case of insanity from mere false percep-
tions, is supposable, insanity is essential to delirium. A certain
variety of insanity is delirium, or delirium is a frequent at-
tendant orf insanity. The mere false perceptions which do
ID reality occur in a waking man whose thoughts, occur in a

367

regular, nataml order, g|^ not constitute deliriam — they con-
stitute what we call daj-dreaming*

If the reader be not satisfied with this short chapter on in«
sanity, he may find a deal of learned nonsense concerning the
subject, in various medical and metaphysical books.

"000-

CHAPTER XXVIII.
On Idiotism*

As the intellectual powers of different species of animals are
more or less perfect, accordingly as their brains are more or
less developed ; so the intellectual powers of different indi-
yiduals of the same species correspond, in perfection, with
the perfection of their brains ; and one may decide with much
certainty whether a man be a genius or a fool, merely by view-
ing his head. If the individual possess a full, high forehead,
and other part3 of the head in natural proportions, it is pretty
certain that he is not a natural, that is, congenital^ fool ; and
highly probable that he is a man of good natural part^t ; yet
he may not be reputed as a man of talents, for although the
sensorium be ever so fully developed and well organized, it
cannot think without tendencies. Knowledge is as essential
to intellectual superiority as a good brain ; but a good brain
will acquire knowledge with greater facility than a poor
one. However, a full, high forehead, and a large /actW an*
gle,* are not sure indications of a good sensorium ; for the

* Supposing a skull to be observed in. profile, in the position
which ir would have when the occipital condyles are at rest, in the
arficiil ir hollows of the atlas, in the erect atiituHe of the bo<;y, and
neither inciined backwards nor foiFwardS|— a line drawn from the

30d

skull and the noembranes which envelope the brain n:iay be
unu9ually thick ; or the outer and insensible part of the cere-
bral mass may be uDCommonly great in proportion to the sen-
sible part — of which part the sensorium constitutes a share ;
or the sensible part, though sufliciently large, may be poorly
organized, — it may be too dry and stiflf, or too soft and phleg-
matic, or it may be in divers other morbid conditions*

A low forehead soon 'sloping backwards, with flat temples
not very distant, indicate a deticiency of that part of the brain
which is so influenced by exercise as to acquire a Aa6i/of act-*
ing without impression, Yet, as in the above case, these out*
ward appearances are not sure indications of an imperfection
of the sensorium. But m most, perhaps all, cases ofcongemr

greatest projection <»f I he forehrad to that of the upper maxillary
bone. fi»llow«? the direciioti of the face and is railed th^ facial line ;
the anele whirh this forms witli a second line, continued horizon-
tallv barls wards, is the fac;o/ 'itifrfe. and mei»sures the relative pro-
minrnce of ihi-javp and forehead. The facial angle in the huniaa
subject vurie- from f)5^ to SS*', speaking ol the adult ; for in the
cliild it reaches bO** The Oeciai' ariisi.s represeuted their legis-
lators, sajjes, anfl poets, wiih a facial angle of 90° ; and th^ir he-
roes and t?ods, with an anjile of 100**.

Th« fidloiving is a staiemeni of the angle in certain animals, ta*)
ken by drMivinjerR line parallel to the flo<»r of the nostrils and an-
other fronj tJie ereatesi prominence of the alveoli lo the convexity
of the cranium, without regarding the outline of the nose and face.
Yonnir orang ulang, . . 67*^ J Probably less by i; or 10**
S?jpjon, - - - - 65'' ( in the" adult animal.
IniHiuni, - • - - 67
Mandrill, ... 42 — 30
Coati, - • - - 28

Pole-cat, - . . , 31
MasiiflT line dravrn from outer

surface of cranium, - - 41
— inner, - . - 30

Hare, • - - - SO

Kam, • - - - 30

Uorse^ - - - • 23

Lawusnce's Lectures, p. I47-d-9.

tal idiotism, the forebedd is low and oarrow, indicating a €oa«
tracted Bensorium. — Parents who are naturally idiotic, that
19, idiotic from original make of their thinking organ, are as U«
able to have, idiotic offspring, as tliej are to have offspring
which resemble them in features ; for like organized animals
beget like organized offspring ; and as the oigans are, so are
their functions.

The more remote causes of idiotism, when not congenital,
are habitual inebriety, excessive and enervating pleasures, vi-
olent passions, injudicious management in ecphronia, [iiisaR*
ity] and especially an excessive use of the lancet. To which
some add, the suppression of accustomed discharges, and the
drinking of human blood. But in all cases the immediate
cause is some misaffection of the brain ; and in a great ma-
jority of cafies this morbid affection is manifest to the senses
of the anatomist. Sometimes the brain is softer than oatu^
ral, but more frequently harder and denser ; sometimes poly-
pons and even bony concretions are discovec<sd«

" In idiotism," says Dr. Good, ^^ there is no memory, no
language, no reason." But ^^ the idiot has all the animal in-
stiuts, and some of the passions." How it is that idiots may
have orgisnic and even sensorial passions, and yet ^* no mem-
ory, no language, no reason," the materialist findtt no diffi«
culty in showing ; as those who have perused this work thus
far, must be prepared to admit. But why idiots should have
poorer souls than- other human beings, rather puzzles us—
perhaps it is because their brains are so badly organized they
da not deserve better. We wish the immaterialists would
clear ap this matter. It will oot satisfy us, for them to com-
pare the brain to a fiddle, and the soul to a fiddler, and tell
us that when tbe*fiddlr is out of tune, tlie best musician can-
not play a good tune upon it, for we know that impressions

are what play upon the brain ; and besideSi the immaterialisti

47

370

^re, in manj inalances, under the necessity of regarding the
soul as the fiddle and the brain as the fiddieje they must ad-
mit that there is no music, no ideas, until the brain plays up-
on the soul. But more of this in another place*

-OOih

CHAPTER XXIX.

On Death and Dying*

When all actions of the nervous and muscular systems
cease, the person dies ; and if the system have suffered such
derangement that these actions, or even those of the nervous
system alone, cannot, by any natural means, be excited again,
the person is absolutely dead,— *-dead in the common sense of
the word. That a man may be dead in the common sense
of the word, it is not necessary that his muscular oigans have
undergone such change m their physiological organisation
that no contractions can by any means be excited in them*
Otherwise the ciiminal is not ^'dead, dead,'' whose voluntas
ry muscles may be excited to contract by galvanism ; nor the
senseless bullock whose blood is let out, but whose heart con-
tinues to act*

If a case should occur in which all muscular actions, even
those of the minubsst capillaries, should cease, and the con-
scient actions of the nervous system continue, the person
would appear to be dead ;-— he would be speechless, pulse-
less, motionless, and probably, ^ pale as death*'' But if by*
standers knew (hat he continued to think and sense, or even
think, they would not say such person is dead ; this, howev-
er, they could not know ; and the person would be dead to
the bystanders, but not dead as it respects himself* Where*

371

as every person is dead, for the time being, as it respests
himself, whenever the conscient action^ of his nervoas system
cease. In every case of asphyxy from drowning, hanging, in*
hahng irrespirable gases, from h'ghtning and intense cold ;
and in every case of compressed brain in which conscient ac-
tions do not occur from strength of sensorial tendencies, and
cannot be excited by impressions upon the senses ; and we
may add, in cyery case o{ natural sleep,"»the person is dead^
for the time being, so far as it respects himself, whatever may
be the muscular actions that take place.

Sleep, either morbid or natural, is a temporary death, as
it respects the individual who sleeps — he is none the less
dead to himself, for the time being, because he may think
and sense again before his body is decomposed* What would
often prove to be only a temporary death, if proper means
were used to bring the nervous system again into an active
state, proves a sleep to the hour of reoi^anizatioo or resurrec*
tion, merely for want of a suigeon with his instmments, or
even a pair of bellows to bring the soul back again into the
brain ! Death, a thing often personified, is not an old dry-
bones walking to and fro the earth, and up and down in it,
striking sick folks ; but merely a dead state of oi|;aDi2ed be*
ings. •

After the animal system has undergone such changes that
its physiological proporties no longer exist, or in other words,
after it has undergone such changes that it cannot be excited
into action by natural means, it soon undeigoes still further
changes, called chemical ; but it is no more mysterious that
it does so, than that a barrel of beer should turn sour, after
undeiigoing the process of fermentation, and suffering some
other slight changes. The expression, that life, or the laws
of the vital principle, control the laws of chemistry or of
chemical actions, if not so much mere nonsense, is at least a

372

trery figunitiTe eYpre««»on, which we trust will no more de-
ceive even weak hcacU.

Dying, though often spoken of as an aeiy is more properly
the cessation of vital actions ; and the immediate cause of
dying is not the cessation of vital actions, for this is dying ;
and the same thing cannot be both the cause and the thii^
caused : the immediate cause of dying is, in every instance,
some change in the condition of nervous system. This change
is generally apparent on dissection, though not always, for the
nervous system may suffer some change in its nice, physio-
logical oi^nization, which destroys its sensibility; and
yet not be cognizable by the imperfect senses of the anato*
mist. But when this change of the nervous system is not ob-
vious, and often when it is, a^ change in some other important
organ, or in the fluids of the system, may be discovered. These
ehanges are often considered as causes of the death ; but
they are to be classed among the remote causes : they are
not the immediaU cause of the conscient actions ceasing.

In the -few instances^— if any there ber— in which it may
be said that persons die of old age, the changes which take
place in their systems, are very gradual ; but they are none
the less real on this account. You can no more make a phy-
sician believe that death ever takes place without some mor-
liid change of the^system, as its cause, than you can make him
believe that fire will not burn him. But the immaterial the-
ologists have not yet decided, that 1 know of, whether a man
dies because the soul quits the body, or whether he dies be-
cause the body is disordered, and the soul flies off because the
body is dead. Should they ever seriously consider this mat-
ter, they will find themselves compelled to admit-^if they re-
gard the evidence which the book of nature furnishes — that a
derangement of the system is the cause of every death. Were
il a &ct, that men quite as frequently die instantly, without

337

any derangement of the system, as otherwise, it would be
some small evidence in favor of immaterialism. Nor have
the immaterinlists yet informed us what become^ of Che soul,
and what it is about, during those hours, days, and even weeks
(if reports be true) in which the body is dead as it respects
itself, and apparently dead to by-standers-^-ailer which time,
however, it is brought again into a thinking condition, by na-
tural means* Should they tell us that, during this time, the
aoul remains inactive within the body ; we should be induced
to ask'several other questions, to which they must give ration-
al answers, before their doctrines wilt be rendered as clear and
satisfactory as the doctrines of the materialist* We would not
insist on their informing us by what means we can ever know
when the soul has quit the body ; but we would ask them wbj
the soul does not continue to think and sense even in if the bo-
dy be deranged : — we suppose they will contend that it thinks
and senses after it quits the body ; (if it do not, it is a matter
of indifference whether it go to heaven or hell — ^it is the sheer-
est little nothing that ever did exist ;) now if it may think and
sense without any body at all, why may it not think when in a
disordered body ? Is the uneztended thing squeezed ! or other-
wise obstructed in its operations ? If it be, why does it not —
being intelligent — quit the clayey tabernacle, and hunt its way
back— for I am sure there is nothing in my Jiead that knows
the way~to the celestial abodes ? But should the imma-
terialists tell us that in case of asphyiy, the soul quits the bo-
dy ; we should like to know how inflating the lungs, warming
and rubbing the body, applying volatiles to the nostrils, &c.,
bring it back again. — Oh, ye men of mysteries, clear up these
difficulties, or the groundless hypothesis which gives rise to .
them, will not much longer be believed by men of sound brains*
The pains of death are undoubtedly much less than most
persons have been led to believe* To die, is to go to sleep ;

S74

and we doubt not that most persons who live to the age of
puberty, undergo tenfold more misery in thinking ol death,
than in (be simple act of dying ; nay, tenfold more misery
than they would, did they but entertain correct views con-
cerning this change* — Error, of whatever description^ inva-
riably gives rise to more human misery than happiness : it is
the bane of human felicity — the black devil of the earth* Me-
thinks 1 can see that the doctrine of soul, or we will say, the
ignorance ofinen concerning the constitution of organized be*
ings, has been the root of more human misery than would be
endured, if every human being now living, were put to death
by hours of excruciating torture ; and yet it has been grave*
]y asked, ivhat good can result from diffusing the principles
of materialism, admitting them to be true !

In all cases of dying, the individual suffers no pain after
the sensibility of his nervous system is destroyed ; for afteif
this, there is neither sensation nor thought. We say, do
thought, for we have every reason to believe that when the
sensorium has suffered such change that conscient actions
cannot be excited in it, such actions will occur merely by
virtue of its tendencies. Now the sensibility of the Nervous
system is often destroyed without much, and sometimes with*
out any, previous pain. Those who are struck dead by a
Btroke of lightning, those who are decapitated with one blow
of the axe, and those who are instantly destroyed by a crush
of the brain, experience no pain at all, in passing from a state
of life to a dead state. One moment's expectation of t>eing
thus destroyed, far exceeds in misery the pain during the act
Those who faint away, on having a little blood taken from the
arm, or on any other occasion, have already endured all the
misery they <»ver would in this world, did they not again re-
vive. Those who die of fevers, and most other diseases, suf-
fer their greatest pain, as a general thing, hours, or even

375

days, before they expire. The sensibility of their nervous
system becomes gradually diminished, their pains become
less and less acute under the same exciting cause ; and at the
moment when their friends think them in the greatest distress,
tbey are more at ease than they have been for days previous :
their disease, as far as it respects their feelings, begins to act
upon them like an opiate. Indeed, many are already dead,
as it respects themselves, when ignorant bystanders are much
the most to be pitied, not for the loss of their friend, but for
their sympathising anguish. Those diseases which destroy
life without immediately aflfectiog the condition of the nervous
system, give rise to more pain than those that do affect this
system, so as to impair its sensibility. The most painful
deathii which human beings inflict on each other, are produ^
ced by the rack and the faggot. The halter is not so cruel as
4|^ther of these, but more savage than the axe. Horror and
pain considered, it seems to us as though we should choose a
narcotic to either.

We think that most persons have been led to r^ard dyii^
as a much more painful change than it generally is, first, be-
cause they have found by ^hat they have experienced in
themselves and seen in others, that sentient beings often strug-
gle when in distress ^ hence struj^ling is to them a sign, an
invariable sign, of distress. But we may remark, that strug-
gles are very far from l>eing invariable signs of distress ; mus-
cular action and consciousness are two distinct things, often
existing separately ; and we have abundance of reason to be*
lieve, that in a great proportion of cases, those st rubles of a
djing man which are so distressing to behold, are as entirely
. independent of consciousness, as the struggles of the recently
decapitated fowl. A second reason why most persons are led
to regard dying as a very painful change, is, because they
know that men often endure great pain without dying, and.

376

forgetting that like causes produce like effects on/y imJer sivi'^
ilar circumstanciSj they infer that life cannot be destroyed
without still greater pain. Third, because they beliere that
there is something in man, whkh is the subject of as vivid
consciousness when he is dying, and almost dead, as when be
is in health*

Most persons, and especially young persons, desire to live,
and this is as much as to say, they desire not to die ; but the
horrors of death, which render a considerable portion of the
majority of men^s lires much less happy than they otherwise
would be, are net owing to this desire to live. Nor do tbej
consist but in part in dread of the pains of death : they consist
mostly in direful ideas of a future state, fear of endless and
most desperate punishments, &c. but if this share of human
misery be thought a blessing to mankind, we may thank igno-
rance and her big baby superstition for it. The materialist,
who has been so fortunate as not to have his reason shackled,
looks on death with much more composure than any one else,
excepting a very small proportion of mankind who have been
lead to believe, confidently ^ that they shall be extremely hap-
py in a future state.

The materialist who has studied the book of nature, aad
drawn his conciusiens from it, regarding the books of men as
erroneous in all points in which they do not agree with it,
says to himself: If a body be organized at some future period,
possessing the same sensorial tendencies which I possess, 1 of
course, shall again exist. And if I do, I shall neither be ex-
tremely happy nor extremely miserable. The same mer-
ciful and unchangeable God, who governs now, will gov-
ern then, and we have no reason to suppose that his
laws will he altered. He will not, with a vengeance, punish,
for deeds done in this life, any being wb6 was involuntarily
born into the world, with passions to spur him to actien, aad

377

5o circumstanced (hat there was a cause for every action o£
his, whether muscular or nervous* But as m this life if I stray
from the path of rectitude, there will always be something to
prick ; and the more I go astray, the more miserable shall I
be.

But if I donot exist in a future state, I shall not care a straw ;
for when I am dead, I shall not exist; and it is absurd to sup-
pose that a being will care^ which does not exist. When the*
body, which the constniction of our languau:e compels me to
speak of as though.it were something besides myself, calling
it my bodi/j is in the grave; there will be no thinking /, oflTia
some other region, thinking about the cold grave^ and anxious-
ly awating (he day of resurrection. No; my thoughts of an-
nihilation are far from being horrible to me — they are not
blended with the strange notion of caring about it, after 1 am
dead; and I have never been cajoled mto the belief that I
shall be extremely happy hereafter, like one who may have
been led to believe that he deserves, and will indeed draw, a
largesum, because he has bought a ticket. Consequently my
reason goes abroad without meeting with information which
blasts my fondest, ^rme«/ expectations.

•00 ' ' ■

CHAPTER XXX.

An Aitempt to show that Materialism is as consistent nith Chris-
tianity as Immaterialism.

We presume to state in terms unqualified, that whoever
maintains that Christianity is opposed to materialism, virtual-
ly maintains that Christianity is opposed to truth. Christian*

48

378

ity must accord with materialism or she cannot have a pass^
age; for (ruth will go when he once gets under weigh.

Wheiher it be possible* to reconcile either materialism or
immaterialism with christianilj, we cannot with certainty say,
until Xhe diverse religious sects professing Christianity agree
among themselves what Christianity consists in, and inform us
of their decision. However, we can proceed to show, that,
according to our views of Christianity, materiahsm is as con-
sistent with it as ifnmaterialism.

According to our views, the sentiment that whatever thinks
and senses is something distinct from the nervous system, and
may sense and think independent of it, is not essential to chris-
tianity. This being the case, certain doctrines, of which this
sentiment is not one, may constitute Christianity ; and who-
ever believes in these doctrines may be a christian, though at
the same time a materialist. And again, according to our
views, the idea that the bible writers WQre inspired with a pre-
ternatural share of scientific knowledge, as of Astronomy,
Anatomy, Physiology, &c., is not essential to Christianity,

Now if it be admitted that neither of these sentiments or
doctrines, are essentiajto Christianity, that they constitute no
essential part of it ; then are materialism and christinity com-
patible. For, admitting it is the nervous s«ystem. which sens-
es and thinks, it'does not follow from this but that every chris-
tian doctrine, may be trite.

«

But if the doctrine of soul be essential to Christianity, so
that there is no Christianity without it ; then it is as evident
that Christianity is false ab that the earth turns on its own ax-
is. And if the idea that the bible writers were inspired with
true knowledge concerning physical subjects, (and the consti-
tution of man and other animals is one of these,) be essential
to chi^istianity ; then shall we prove that ehristianity is false.

379,

when we prove that these writers^ w.ere not thus inspired ; as
we now proceed to do.

^' And God made the firmament and divided the waters
which were under the firmament from the waters which were
above (he firmament. And God called the firmament Aearen.
And God said^ Let the waters under the heaven be ga'thered
together into one place, and let the dry land appear.'' — Gen.
ch. 1st, V. 7, 8, 9. ^* And God created two great tights, and
the stars also, and set them in the firmament ofheaven.^^ — Qen.
ch. Ist, V. IG, 17. " And the windows of heaven were open-
ed, and the rain was upon the earth farty days and forty
nighU." — Gen. ch. 7, v. 1 1, 12. " And the windows of heav-
en were stopped, and the rain from henven wa« restrained.'*
— Gen. ch. 8, v. 2. These passages show clearly that who-
ever wrote the book of Genesis, b<<'lievcd that the blue and
seemingly arched canopy over our heads, is the firmament of
heaven; and that the sun, moon and stars, are all equi-dis-
tant from the earth, or at least, that they are all set id this
arching canopy, they being all " set in the firmament of heav-
en,*' which divides the waters, &c. This is an opinion which
children and all persons ignorant of astronomy would natu-
rally entertain. It is clear, also, 4hal this writer believed
that when it rains, or at least, when it rained in the. time of
the flood, the windows of heaven were opened, and the wa-
ter *' above the firmament" ran down — large streams being
broken into drops, no doubt, by fallmg so great a distance.

Now it is certain that these notions about the firmament ;
about the sun, moon and stars being set in the firmament ;
about the windows of heaven which are windows of the fir-
mament, (for " God called the firmament heaven ;") about
the water above the firmament, that is, up in heaven, where
the God or Gods of the old and new testaments dwell ', about

380

the rain, &c. &c. arc khc ; and of course the writer that en-
tertained them did nol receive them by inspiration*

Perhaps it will be said that this writer* expressed himself
in figurative language, and that we do not know but that he
thought correct!} • Very well, we will then say, and with
quite as good reason, that whoever has spoken of a soiJ id
the bible, spoke figuratively ; and we have no more reason
to suppose he believed the word means any thing distinct
from the nervous system, than we have that this writer be-
lieved the firmament of heaven and the windows thereof, to
be real beings.

In the ninth chapter, thirteenth verse, of Genesis, we read
^' I will set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of
a covenant between me and the earth.''

Before we offer any remarks concerning this passage, we
would observe, it is impossible for us to believe (and who is
to blame for itj that the Author of worlds on worlds, ever
descended in a cloud of fire, pmoke, or any other vehicle, to
this eai;th, and conversed with a man ! What should we think
of any man nowadays, if he should gravely assert that he had
been up to the top of Mount Tom and seen and conversed
with God Almighty ? Why is it that men will sooner believe
a whole stnng of big stories than a single one ? If Moses ever
saw and heard what his unknown historian has declared that
he did, it is much more rational to suppose that actions oc-
curred in his optic and auditory nerves without impressions,
than that the Deity ever paid him a visit and conversed with
him. Frnni what we know of the God of nature, he brings
about his ends by the most .simple means ; and if he be un-^

* We say thit writpr^ for it is altoffetlier unknown by whom the
book of Genesis and the four follt"^iii2 b<»oks ivtre wriiteQ ^ coo-
vincecl we are that ih^-y w«»re not wiiilen by Moses. See Painc's
A^ of Reasou, Second Part.

S81

changeable, as the book of nature declares, and we believe, it
is but reasonable to suppose he always did so.

From the passage last quoted from Genesis, and from oth-
ers immediately iconnected with it, it is evident that the writer
considered the rainbow as a thing that made its appearance
for the first time, after (he flood, as a token of a covenant, &c«,
whereas it is a natural phenomenon which must always occur
when rays of light from the sun are reflected by drops of rain
in a particular manner ; and which must necessarily have ta*
ken place, the unalterable Jaws of nature being such, before
the flood as well as now.

What we read in the tenth chapter of Joshua, twelfth and
thirteenth verses, about the sun and moon standing still — tak*
en in connection with other passages in the the bible which
speak of the earth as standing on pillowy — shows clearly
that the bible writers, some of tbem at least, were so very ig-
norant of astronomy as to believe that the sun and moon move
routid the earth, instead of the earth turning round on its own
axis.

Another erroneous notion entertained by the bible writers,
is of a physiological nature — it relates to the constitution of
man ; it is the notion that man consists of material oi^ans and
an inconceivabl^somethingelse superadded, a something that
scuds out of him when his organs cease to act, and steers off)
or by angles is carried off*, to heaven ; and enjoys pleasure and
endures pain independent of the body.

It is true that with the exception of man, the writers of the
Old and New Testaments, seldom had occasion to discover
their opinions concerning the nature of things ; but from what
little they have said concerning natural objects, it is evident
that they knew no more about them than thousands of other
men of their age ; it is evident they were not inspired
with a knowledge of the nature and constitution of oi^anic or

382

inorganic bodies. Consequently, if the opinion (hat the)
were, be essential to Christianity then is Christianity Mse.
But if it be admitted that they were not thus inspired, all they
have written about souls amounts to no more than if the same
had been written by any other man of their age. To enquire
whether a man has a. soul or not is to inquire into the constitu-
tion o/man ; and this is a subject that belongs to that branch
of physics called physiolocry. Strange indeed it is, very
strange, if the opinions of divines concerning the constitution
of man, are to be regarded in preference to the opinions of
physicians.

It may be asked if Christ did not oflen speak as though man
possesses a soul. Wc grant that those who have written ac-
counts of his birth, death, and doings, have written that he did.
But what then ? was Christ born into this world, to teach men
physiology? Admitting that he, though the son of a carpen-
ter's wife, knew every thing and could do almost any thing, it
does not folio iv that be must work a miracle in every man's
brain to convince him that he has no soul, or convince him so
by a long reasoning process. Before the science of chemis-
try had taught men that new combinations give rise to new
properties it would have required an octavo volume of great-
er size than this, to convince them that they are composed
entirely of matter. It was an object of Jesus to make
men believe certain doctrines which he delivered unto them;
and it would have operated much against him, to have con-
tradicted an opinion so firmly and universally believed, as
was the opinion that each man has a soul in his bead : unless
he convinced the people that this opinion is erroneous : a
thing which he could not do, short of working a miracle in
every man's brain, or of along reasoning process.^

Now as it was not an object of Jesus to teach men what
they are made of, but to teach them their duty towards their

3S3

Maker and towards each other ; and to teach thenn that they
will come to life at some future period, and be punished or
rewarded according to their behaviour before thev die; in-
stead of contradicting their opinions concerning their consti-
tution, he spoke to his hearers in the same language that they
used ; he could not otherwise converse with them^ Hence
according to Matthew, chap, x, v. 28, he said '"' Fear not theai
which kill the body but are not able to kill the soul, but rather
fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in bell.'^
But had all his hearers been materialists — none of the lan-
guage of immaterialism bein^ in use — we may well suppose
he would have said : Fear not them who are able to kill the
body only ; but rather fear him who is able to destroy thy
prcfient existence, and render the future miserable*

Matthew was undoubtedly an immaterialist ; but Luke
writes more like a materialist. Luke informs us that Christ
said : '' I say unto you, my friends, Be not afraid of them* that
kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do :
but 1 will forewarn you whom you shall fear : Fear him, which
after he bath killed, hath power to cast into hell ; yea, I say
unto yon, fear him.'^ Not a word is here said about a soul ;
but that Luke here had reference to the same saying of Jesus,
that Matthew, had in the passage we have quoted from his
tenth chapter, no one can doubt, after comparing together this
chapter of Matthew and the twelfth chapter of Luke.

We do not know that Luke was a materialist ; but he doe&
not appear to have been very friendly to the word soul. Ii>
the whole of his book containing 24 chapters, it occurs in
only four instances ; and in only one of these does it appear
that Jesus used it, in an expression strictly his own* In the
first instance, chap. 1, v. 46, it occurs in an expression of Ma-
ry — " And Mary said^ My soul doth magnify the Lord." A
very figurative expression this. What ! a woroan^s soul mag-

o

84

nify God Almighty ? Surely, it can mean nothing more than
that Fhc rejoiced and felt thaiikful because the '^ Lord had ce-
garded her low estate." In the second instance, chap. 10,
V. 27, a iaw}er tells Jesus, ** It is written in the law, Thoa
Shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, and with all
ihy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind,"
This strong but figurative passage means nothing more than,
you shall love the Lord as much as yoa can ; and we defy
any man, be he a necessarian or not, to love him less. In
the t'.reUth chapter it is written that Jesus spake a parable ;
and in this parable it is represented that a rich man addressed
his soul, saying. '* Soiil, ihou hast much good laid up for ma-
ny years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry." '* And
God said nnto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be re-
quired of thee." But what sort of thing did this man take
his soul to be, when he tells it to eat, drink, &c. ? Surely, no-
thing more nor less than his person, his visible extended per-
son, including of cocrse both eating and drinking oi^ans. —
But as to the expression, ^^ This nigbt shall thy soul be re-
quired of thee," it means nothing more nor less than, this
night .^hall thy life be required of thee ; and thus rneani^i.oJh-
ing more than, you shall this night die, that is, your organs
shall cea.^e to act. This is the third instance in which the
word soul is used in Luke. The fourth instance occurs in
the xxi. chap, and 19th verse : '' In your patience, possess
your Fouls." Here it is represented that Je^us used the word
in an exprf ssion strictly his own. But from this passage wc
have just as much reason to infer that a xnH]ih patience is some-
thing distinct from his body, as that his soul is. The expres-
sion 18 so veiy ambiguous, that we scarcely venture to offer
an opinion as to the sense in which it ought to hv understood
— it would have been le.«a so, had ii been, in }<>iir -oulf t.»os-
sess your patience. However^ cousiderui^ what goes before

380

zni nfteriU we are inclined to think it ought to beunderstooA
as follows : In ail the trials and perplexities you maj meet
with, keep cool and collected ; or, have patience, so as not
to be discouraged and vexed, so as not to be disposseseied of
jour intellectual powers, by the difficulties you lyiay meet
with, — Surelyv if tl|e writi<igt» of Luke had been the only ones
of Christ's histiprian<i that were voted genuine, and we had
never seen those of th^ other Evangelists, we should have had
no reason to suppose that Jesus was an immaterialist frooi
any thing he said concerning souls. Admitting that Jesus of-
ten spoke of a soul, it is no sort of evidence that he believed
it to be any thing distinct from the body. Scarcely a day
passes but that materia iiete use the word soul or mind as
though it were something distinct from the body, or at least,
as though it were something besides the body ; and if, twenty
years hence, their conversation should be written in a book|
it would be just as much evidence to futune generations that
these materialists were immaterialists, as the few clauses la
the New Testament which represent that Jesus spoke of a
soul, are (hat he believed in the existence of a feeling think-
ing thing that scuds away from a man when he dies.

Perhaps it may be said that there are sayings of Jesus
which favor immaterialism, although they contain nothing
express concerning souls. According^ to Luke, he said to
one of the malefactors who was put to death with him : '^ Ve-
rily t say unto thee, to-day shalt thou be with me in para-
dise.'' But what are we to understand by this f Do not the
pronouns I, me, and myself, mean the hame thing? and did
not Jesus, by paradise^ here mean heaven, the place to which
it is said he ascended, the place where his Father and the an-
gels dwell ? The first question fnust be answered in the affir-
mative, and if the second be not, we wish our learned divines

would inform us something about this paradise* But if par-

49

386

adise be heaven, the place where it is represented that the
God of the hible dwells ; then Christ did not go to paradise
for several days after he was crucified. For after he came
to life, he appeared to his disciples, and said unto them, '^Be-
hold my hands and my feet, that it is I mysklf, handle me
and see ; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, a9 ye see me
have/' This much to show that Jesus did not consider him-
self as consisting m something which has not flesh and bones.
(Genuine materialism this.) Now according to John, chap.
XX. V. 27, Jesus said to Mary, " I am not yet ascended to my
Father ;^' and this was several days after he was crucified.
From all this, it appears that the malefactor, soul nor body,
could not be in paradise with Jesus the same day, as it respects
time^ that he was put to death ; for Jesus himself was not
there. However, the christian materialist finds no difficulty
ih getting along with this : he says that when a man dies, he
does indeed die ; of course, if he lie in the grave ten thousand
years, it is no time at all to him -,— every man passes frem
this life to the future in the twinkling of an eye as it respects
himself n though millions of years may elapse between his
4eatband reorganization. Consequently the malefactor will
be ii) paradise the day he died, as it respect^s himself, should
he not be there for thousands of years to come.

What Jesus said in a parable concerning the rich man and
Lazarus, has been considered by some as favoring immateri-
alism. But the rich man died and was buried, and in hell he
lifted up his et/es and saw Lazarus in Abraham's bosom ; and
cried out to Abraham to let LazaruH come and dip his fingers
in water, and cool his tongue* Now in the name of common
sense, how comes it that an unextended soul has eyes and a
tongue in hell ? and why did not the old fellow help himself
to water if it were handy? and how large must Abraham^s
bo3om be to hoid Luzaius ? We should think the immaterial-

/

3

\

387

ists had better keep this pass^ige in the back ground, if they
do not wish to be puzzled. Will they tell us that when the |

sou! quits the body and goe^ to heaven or bell, it becomes ex-
tended, af)d has the parts of a man ? Let them say so ; but
this would be nothing more nor less than creating a material
man out of an im/naterial — nothing! — The christian material-
ist may adqnit, if he pleases, that when men die, men of like
sensorial tendencies are instantly — as it respects time — or-
^aai^ed in some distant region ; but why, then, the " resur-
rection of the deady'^^ which is certainly the most important,
and we should think an tssential doctrine of Christianity ? Is
there going to be two sets of human beings precisely alike.?
Methinks ther6 would be much contention if they should ever
get together ; and perhaps some mistakes among the men and
women ! »

Immediately after noticing the third instance in which the
word soul occurs ip Luke, we meant to have remarked that
the same Greek word which is translated soul in the New
Testament, is, in as much as thirty instances in this Testa-
ment, translated life.

Thus much have we written to show that materialism is
consistent with Christianity, We shall now proceed to show*
that immaterialism is not consistent with Christianity ; after
which we trust all will be convinced that materiahsm is at
hast as consistent with Christianity as immaterialism.

As intimated in the fore pert of this chapter, we shall not
decide dogmatically what Christianity is ; for this would be ,

to decide a question concerning which the different sects cal-
ling themselves christians, are at war. It would be to decide
a question in which we do not feel at all interested : — we can
only say, we wish those doctrines the least success which
make men the worst neighbors and citizeas. We proceed
according to our own notions of Christianity.

388

Accor^ng to our views, the doctrine of the resurrection of
, the dtad u the inosi important, and an essential doctrine of
Christianity. Without this resurrection we hold there is no
future existence — no future rewards and punishments* Con-
sequently, whotver dot^s not heh( ve in this, is not stiicily a
christian, though he may be a virtuous .ma». — There were
many viituous men before the christian era ; perhaps more in
proportion to the whole human family and their unenlighten^
ed state than there now are.

Now if the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead, he es-
lentiai to rtiristianity, then is immaterialism, or the doctrine
of soul, Siitogether at variance with Christianity. For accor-
ding to this doctrine, the man never dies ; that thinking, feel-
ing being which constitutes the man — that being, in the sanne-
ness of which theimmaterialists place personal identity, never
dies* To be sure it q^uits its old material tenement, but tbia
is nothing but changing its place. ThiTefore the many passa-
ges in the New Testament which speak of a mand^ing, and
of his resurrection from the dead— an exemplification of
' which we have in the death and resurrection of Jesus — are

• • • •

diametrically opposed to immaterialism.

Is not death spoken of as a sleep^ that is an unconscious state ?
But jacccording to immaterialism, the man is not in an uncon-
tcious state after the material machine ceases to breathe; un»
less it be admitted that the soul is unconscious after it quits the
body; but if the soul be in an unconscious state from the time
it quits the body to the re-oi^^anization thereof, we wish to
know for what reason any religious sect contends for its exis-
tence. An unconscious, uhextended thing must be the sheer-
est little fiothmg that ever did exist — quite too insignifiraDt
for men to contend about. If I have a soul which can neither
think nor sense independent of the body, then let roy body be
tvell off, and I care not what becomes of my sool.

3B9

Again. Do the scriptures inform us of any place for dead
men, or, if you please, for men after they get out of tlieir
bodies^ except heaven^ hell, and the ^rave ? Now if men do
not rn fact die, but only scud away from the machines by
which they have operated, and in the top part of which they
have dwelt ; they must go to heaven pr hell for aught we know
to the contrary. But if all go to heaven, then many wicked
are in heaven, and will remaii there perhaps for thousands of
years to come ; but if all go to helK then. many righteous men
are in helL there to remain until the day of resurrection and
judgment. But if they are sorted out as they fly away from
their machines, why the final day of judgment that is spoken
of? nnd why are all the wicked men called out of hell, united
with their old machines, and sent back to hell again? Poor
machines ! I .pity you ; you are not to blame for any thing you
have ever done — you only obeyed the commands of your coQ"
troller.— Again, if the soul may be conscious independent of
the body, it may be the subject of rewards and punishments ;
and for what purpose is the body re-organized ? The God of
nature brings about his ends by the cheapest means; and ac«
cording to the doctrine of soul we can see no use for the body
in the celestial regions, unless it^be to sing hymns with-*no
connubial bliss there, at least with those that die old btfchet*
lors! Surely, the doctrine of soul, and the doctrine of the re*
surrection of the dead^ and a d'^y of judgment — a day when
all shall be judged, and sentenced to their future abodes, are
altogether at variance : they c«tnnot he made to harmonize.
But n9t so wi*h materiali<^m and the doctrine of resurrection,
and one day of judgment for all men. The materialist says
that all men appear at the bar of Grod, the moment they die,
as it respects $kem$f' Ives ^ and yet although men die at dif-
ferent periods of time, they all appear at the bar of God on
doe and the same day as it respects time. He says the body

. 390

must be re^organtzed because there is no future existence
without it; and it is the body that is punished and rewarded,
for it is the body that acted — acted as independently as any
I thing can that is governed by the laws of pature. He says
the body may be organized out of any matter, for 'all thai is
necessary to constitute the same person, to all intents and
purposes, is to have the same looking body, possessing the
same sensorial tendencies.

It is a little curioi^s that materialists must be cried down
by some christians, when they maintain the only doctrine con-
cerning the constitution o/man, that can be made to harmo-
nize with Christianity.

Christianity is not to be proved or disproved by our deci-
sion concerning the nature of tliat which thinks, unless the
doctrine of soul be essential to Christianity. The present writer
Was a firm materialist years before he disbelieved so many
of the christian doctrines, that it would be hypocrisy i|i him
to pretend to believe in Christianity. But he now feels the
same moral obligations towards his. fellow; creatures that he
ever did, and'is much more happy in hi< thoughts concern*
ing death and a future e&istence, than formerly. — Oh truth !
Thou art fair and lovely ; there is symmetry in all thy parts ;
and he that kAows thee, is not cold and hot, hot and cold,
alternately ; — he is not distressed with fears and doubts at
one time, and -flushed with expectations of unnatural joys at
another. Thou causest peace in one^s own breast, peace in
neighborhoods, and peace between nations. Blood may be
shed in the cause of the adversary ; but thou wilt ultimately
conquer with no other weapon than the pen !

Before closing this chapter, we make some extracts from a
pamphlet which we have recently received, entitled " The
Scripture Doctrine op Materialism.'' It is written by a
masterly pen ; but the author is to be reprehended by every'

301

friend of truth and intellectual freedom^ for not putting his
name to it. In making these extracts, we shall not add any
words of our own except in brackets, and the authors own
words will not appear in (he form of quotations, that the read-
er may the more easily understand what words are his, and
what the words of writers from whom he makes extracts.

After this, can it be said, that the separate existence of an
immortal soul is the doctrine of Christ ? I am lost in utter as-
tonishment at the presumptuous hardihood that can state this
doctrine as an essential article of the christian faith ! at the
impudent intolerance that can cry down a man's character
and standing in society^^can interdict him like the banished
of old, from tire, water and shelter — because examining Scrip-
ture for himself, he cannot conscientiously accept as divine
truth, the metaphysical reveries of Calvinistic theology !

The question is not, is there any tcxf in the bible that seems
to countenance the notion of a soul,, (for the bible was trans-
ited by persons who took that doctrine for granted ;) — the
question is, what is the general tenor of the doctrine on the
subject laid dowirby Jcsius Christ : does Ae countenance it?
The apostles wrote and spoke very figuratively, and frequent-
ly in conformity and alhision to the previous notions of those
they were addressing. To establish the doctrine of a soul as
a Christian doctrine, do not refer me to a few tests ih^i seem
to countenance it j you must shew it me plainly, clearly, and
undoubtedly laid down, explained, and urged by Christ him-
self: and that I think cannot be done from the Evangelists.
All else is evidence so inferior as to have little weight on the
question*

All persons conversant with the Scripture, know, that the
various and discordant tenets of metaphysical Christianity are
founded, asserted, and denied on (he license of figurative ex-
pression used by the apo.4tles, and principally by St. Paul.
In this war of words I desire to take no part, and I therefore
appeal exclusively to the gospels.

Of the opinions of the ancient fathers.

I am not possessed of the means of examining and referring
to the original works of the fathers, as they are called. I
must therefore be content with referring to some summary.
Such a one Dr. Priestly has given ; but I am aware his au-

396

thority mny be objected to. Lewis Ellis Dupin and Lard*
Aer have not attended to this subject as a separate questioD|
and Lardner^s quotations are very partial. The only author
of repute who has examined all the writings of fhe Christ iaa
ftrthers with this view, is Beausobre, in his history of Mani-
cheism : an author universally regarded as amon^ the fairest
and best quahfied of moderadays. He too is cited by Priest-
ly, by Rees, and otheis.

To avoid »l! reasonable objection, I referred to the article
Immaterialism in the larger French Encyclopedle; nriaoifestlj
written by one who is not a materia ii^^t. I translate brie^
fronn that article ; stating however that his represeotatioQ
wiU^ coincide with that of M. Beausobre.

'^ Some moderns suspect that as Athani^oraf admitted a
spirit in the formation of the universe, he was acquainted with
spirituality, and did not adroit a corporeal Deity, like almost
all the other philosophers. But by the word spirit (pneuma)
the Greeks and Romans equaHy understood a subtile ma tter,
extremely dilated, intelligent indeed, but extended, and coa-
tifiting of parts. In effect, how can they believe that the
Greek philosophers had any idea of a substance purely spiri-
tual, when it is clear that all the primitive fathers of the church
made even God Almighty corporeal ; and their doctrine was
perpetuated in the Greek church even to later times, and was
never renounced by the Roman church till the time of St.
Auijustine,^^ (about six hundred years after Christ.)

The author of the article proceeds, by means of qiiotations
from their works, to show that the following fathers were
materialists, viz. Origen. whom Jerom reproaches for hii^ no-
tion that God himself was material ; Tertullian, who wroiea
book De Anyna expressly to prdve the mortality and materi-
ality of the human soul ; Arnobiys ; St. Justin ; Tatian ; St.
Clement of Alexandria ; Lactantius; St. Hilariiis; St. Greg-
ory Nnzianzenus ; St. Gregory Nyssentis ; St. Ambrose ;
Cassian; and finally John oifThessalonica, who, at theSev-
cnth Council, pronounced it as an opiruon traditionally de-
livered by St. Athanasios, St. Basil, and St. Methodius, that
neither angels, demons, nor human souls, were disengaged
from matter. The writer forgot Melito, bishop of Sardis ;
but here is a list quite long enough. It proves nothing, ex-
cept that in the early ages of the Christian church, and for
near six hundred years, Materialism was not heresy,* l?nt quite

398

Qiherwise. 1n<1eed, St. Aostin lays^ that he himself was ib^
along time of this opinion ; owing to his difficulty orcoiiceiv-'
ing (be pure spirituality ofGod himself. — Are these metaphy*
sics of any use or value to a Christian, on the one side or the
6ther ? I consider them as vaJD speculatiena, unproductive of
practical benefit. ,

The Apostles' Creed of uncertain composition, butancienti
requires us to hold an essential article of the Christian faith.
What ? the resurrection of the soul ? JNo, *^ the resurrection
of the body, and the life everlasting.'^ Amen.

That the doctrine of the nort'existence of a. separate immaterial
Soul^ distinct from the human body, and disjoined from it at
death, is a doctrine published and avowed by dignitaries of
the church of England*

I apply this to the. well meaning, but not well instructed
portion of my fellow citizens. I am not about to prove my
point by an appeal to the beqcb of bishops. But I say that
doctrine is not Atheism, Deism, or Infidelity, which some of
the bench of bishops avow, which others doubt about, and
which none complain of as heretical or dangerous.

Dr. Edmund Law, Arch Deacon of Carlisle, Master of Pe-
ter's College in the University of Cambridge, (a seminary for
^nishing the education of young men,) wrote a treatise on the
nature and end of death.^ To the third edition of this work,
DOW before me, publis^hed in 1776, he added an appendix oa
the meaning of the original words, translated soul and spirii
hi the Holy Scriptures; Ihowing that no part of the bible
gave countenance to the doctnnc'of a separate soul, or of an
intermediate state of being between drath and judgment. He
refers to Bishop Sherlocki the Rev. Mr. Taylor of Norwichi
and Mr. Haller, in the ibilowing close to that appendix.

Extract Jrom M< Appendix to Considerations on the Theory
of Religion, by Edmund Law, D. D. Archdeacon of Carlisle,
and Master of St, Peter^s College, Cambridge^ third edition,
1755. With an Appendix concerning the use of the word Soul
in Holy Scrtpture^ and the state of death there described*

*^ The intent of this appendix, containing an examinatioa
of all the meanings that the words translated SOUL, in the
Uld or New Testament, appears to have, is to show that tfie

^ 50

394

doctrine of a separate immaterial, immortal soul, is not a
ChriMian doctrine : that it 19 not fairly dedurible from tbe
Christian Scriptures , and it \s contrary to their genet al ten-
or." • Dr. I^aw, after this summary, goes on to say, page 398 :
*^ This may f^erve for a specimen of such texts as are usuallj'
alleged on the other side of the question ; (viz. by the Imma-
terialists,) all Qf which, will, I believe, appear even from these
short remarks upon them, to be either quite foreign to the
point, or purely (igurntive ; or lastly, capable of a clear and
. easy solution on the principles above mentioned. Nor can
•uch ever fairly be opposed (o the constant obvious .tenor of
the sacred writings, and that number of plain express pa^a-

tes already cited. ^^ • • . page 400. Give me leave, says Dr.
jaw, to subjoin (he sentiments of a very pious and worthy
person, eminently skilled in Scripture language, the Rev. Mr.
Taylor, of Norwich, who is pleased to write as follows : ** I
have parui^ed your papers, &c. They comprehend two
poiriis ; one point upon the nature of the human soul or spirit^
so far as revt'iaHongiveF us any light ; the other concerning tho
state to 7ohich death reduces us. From the collection of Scrip-'
ture^ under ilie first of these points, I think it appears, that no
man can prove from Scripture that the human soul is a prin*
ciple which lives, and acts, and thinks, independent of the
body. .... Whatever the metaphysical nature, essence, or
substance of the soul may be, (whrch is altogether unknowa
to us,) it is demonstratively certain that its existence, both in
tbe manner and duration of it, must be wholly dependent on
the will and pleasure of God. God must appoint its connec-
tion with and dependence on any other substance, both in ilt
operations, powers and duration. All arguments therefore
for the natural immortality of the soul, taken from the nature
of Its substance or essence, as if it must exist and act separate
from the body, because it is of such a substance,. &c. are man-
ifestly vain. If indeed we do find any thing in the faculties
and operations of the mind to which we arc conscious, that
doth show it is ihe will of God. we should exist in a ftftaie-
state, those arguments will stand' good. But we can never
prove that the soul of man is of su(:h a nature that it can and
must exist, live, think, act, and enjoy, &c. separate from, and
independent of the body. All our present experience shows
the cnntrmy. Tlie operations, of the mind depend constant^
)y and invariably upon tl^e state of the body, of the brain in

396

particular. If some dying persons have a liveTj um of their
rational feculties to the very last, it is because death has in*
Taded some other part« and the brain remains -sound and vig-
orous. But what is the sense of REVELATION ? Vou have
given a noble collection of u^xts, that shew it very dearly.
The subject yields many practical remarks, and the wannest
and strongest excitements to piety.''

After this extract from Mr. Taylor's letter, Dr. Law closet
bis appendix in these words : '^ But it might look like begc^ing
the (question, should I draw out all these in form, together
with the consequences of this doctrine in regard to either Pa«
pist or Deist, till the doctrine itself, so long decried by the
one, and so often disgraced by. the ether, shall appear free
from the prejudices attending it, and be at last understood to
have a fair foundation in Scripture, by which we Protestants
profess to be determined : and when we have duly examined
them, may possibly discern that the natural immoriality ofiht
human mind is neither necessarily counec ted with, nor to a Chris*
tiun any proper proof of a future state of rewards and punish'

After this Dr. Law was raised to the see of Carlisle.

Dr. Watson, Bishop of Land^lf pllbii^hed a collection of
tracts for the use of young clergymen. The following is an
extract from his preface.

Exiraet from a preface to a collection of TTuological Tracti^
by- Richard Watson. D. D, Bishop of Lftndaff^ and Regius Pro*
feasor of Divinity in the University of Cambridge^ 1785. Dt'
dicated to the Queen.

Page 14, 15. — '^ Want of genuine moderation towards those
who dilTer from us in religious opinions, seems to be the most
unaccountable thing in the world. Any man who hab aajr
religion at all, feels within himself stro'iger motive to judge
right, than you can possibly suggest to him : and if he judgea
wrong, what is fhat to you ? To his own master he standeth
or falleth : his wrong judgment, if it affect hi« own valvatioo,
cannot affect yours ! For, in the words of Tertullian, nee alii
obtst aui proaest alterius religio, . . • • Still you will proba*
biy rejoin, there must be many truths in the Christian religion,
Concerning which no one ought to hesitate, inasmuch as with*
eut a belief in them, he caauoi be reputed a Chriatiao-^-^re-

as6

puted ! by whom ? by Jesiu* Christ h\» Lord and God, or by
yoa ? R^sh expositors of points of doubtful disputation ; in-
tolerent fabricator:* of metaphysical creeds, and incongruous
systems of theology ! Do you undertfike to measure the ex-
tent of any man V understanding except your own ; to esti-
mal^e tb^ strength and origin of his habits of thinking ^ to ap-
preciate his merit or demerit in the use of the talent .that God
has given him, so unerringly, as to pronounce that the belief
of this or that doctrine is necessary to his salvation ?''

..... Page 16.— " But there are subjects on which the
academicorum may be admitted, I apprehend without injur-
ing the foundations of our religion. Such are the questions
which relate to the power of evil spirits to suspend the laws
of nature, or to actuate the minds of men ; to the materiality
or immateriality of the human souJ^ to the state of the dead ^e-
fore the gerural resurrection^ the resurrection of the same hody^
the duration of future punishments^ and many others of the
Mamekind.^^

It may be remarked that even materialists of former times
appear to have bad a rague notion of something in a man^s
head, which may properiy enough be called soul. But mo-
dem materialists know of nothing which the word soul can,
with the least propriety, be used to signify ; and knowing that
the use of thingless names as though they were not such, only
serves to keep alive erroneous notions, they make no use of
the word soul.— -They discard it as so much old trumpery in-
Tented in ancient days, of no other use than to blind men^s
'eyes, when they are searchiug after truth. Men are atrange-
ly deceived bv words ; ^^^^y ^^ ^ot seem to regard the pre*
cept of Locke, '' not to take words for things, nor suppose
that names in books signify real entities in nature, till they
can frame clear and and distinct ideas of those entities.*' If
we could only once get rid of the metaphysical language now
in use, there would be no more mystery about the functions
of a man's headj than there is about the operations <»f a cotr
tou factory.

397

'Bat 80 far as it respects future existence — so far as it re*
spects all religious doctrines, materialisni is materialsno. whe-
ther we use the word soul or not. And so far as it respects
religious doctrines, that immateriali^t who should maintain
that the soul is in an unconscious state when separated from
the body 9 is on the same footing with the materialist*

00-

CHAPTER XXXI.

On a Future Siate.

It is with diffidence we broach the subject before us. It is
touching an interesting question, the negative or affirmative of
which, can neither be proved or disproved by any evidence
that man can draw from the book of nature.*

Those who firmly believe that the bible is the word of God,
be them materialists or immaterialists, can want no further

* As we have spoken of the Book of Nature and of Good's
Book of Nature, in this work ; it roav be well enough to show
distinctly what we mean by the Book of Nature. We dt» not
mean a paper book, written by Dr. Mason Good, nor any other
paper book, but the universe — the created universe whose author is
God. It is this book wi)ich teaches us the power ^Ofi goodness of
God ; it is this book 'which teaches all age«t and nations the same
lessons ; it is this book which teaches ns all the physical facts that
we know. These are the facts which we think over in connection
with hnman statements, when we are said to judge or reason c(m-
cerning such statements ; and whatever we find to disagree with
these facts appeals to us irrational, i. c. we do not believe it. — And
nt are just fools enough not to be hypocrites — we openly 'ivow our
opinions though they may differ from the opinions of those who ex-
amine only one side of a question.

From what we have now said, the reader may discover a simila*
rity of meaning in the two following expressions— What reason*
teaches ut^What the book nature teaches us*

3d8

M9uriince of a future existence than what they have in the
Jfew Testament. The doctrine of resurrection is therein
clearly and expressly avowed ; and if any one want any fur-
ther evidence of a future existence than what he has in this
testament, it is clear that he does not firmly believe in the
christian religion. Yet there are some who would be glad to
find evidence of thi^ pleasing doctrine in the book of nature.
And as there can be no harm in believing in a future state,
even if there never will \>e any such state, /^rovuisd such be-
lief do not prove a cause of less happiness or more misery in
this life than we should otherwise experience, we shall glean
what evidence we can from the book of nature in favor of it.

Perhaps we shall remove doubts and fears concerning a fu-
ture state, as much by showing there is no evidence against
•uch state, as by advancing all the arguments we can in favor
of it. That then will be our first object.

Really, we know not what to say — ^we seem

to lack ideas ; we cannot think of any thing which any man
fs short-sighted enough to bring forward as an ai^ument against
a future state of existence. We think we have shown 'cor-
rectly and satisfactorily what personal identity consists in;
and if we have, such difficulties as might arise before it was
aatisfactorily shown what personal identity consists in, will not
DOW be urged. According to our views it is of no consequence
what becomes of the matter which composes our bodies at the
time we die. It matters not if the same identical matter com-
pose a thousand human bodies in succession, at the time they
die. We say all that is necessary to constitute the same per*
son, to all intents aiid purposes, is a like looking body, with
like sensorial tendencies, organized out of any matter. And no
one who believes in a God, will doubt his power to re-organ-
ize, or to organize such bodies at some future period.

Thai like looking men with like sensorial tendencies as those

399

that died at some former period have not jet been re^organ-
ized, is no evidence that such men will not b^ re-orgnnized
at some future period ; but if men who died at 9ome former pe-
riod| bad yet been re-organized to our certain knowledge, it
would be some evidence to us, that other dead men will be re-
organized. However, the lack of this evidence far a future
existence^ is no evidence agaimt it* Suppose a man shou Id be
born in the summer, possessing asgooda share of knowledge as
any other man, except what is acquired by experiencing the
changes of seasons ; would such man, in a few dajs or weeks,
judge from what he had experienced that there will be a win*
ter? would he judge there will be short days, long nights,
freezing weather and snow upon the ground ? He certainly
would not---judging only from what he had witnessed — put-
ting human testimony aside — he would say there will be only
warm days, longer than the nights, and the surface of the
earth will be covered with green vegetables*. Yet his havmg
never experienced a winter and his judging there will never be
such a season, would be no evidence that there will be no win-
ter. So our having never witnessed a reorganization of per-
sons who formerly existed, and all our lack of belief that men
will be re-organized, are no sore of evidence thai they never
will be. '

Ten, fifty, or an hundred thousand years, compared with
eternity, are as a moment compared with an age. The world
is yet in its infancy ; it has bat just began to be ) but a small
pait of it is yet brought into a state of cultivation ; men have
not yet arrived to the highest degree of perfection that their
present natures admit of; they are grossly ignorant and su-
perstitious compared with what thev will be in a few centu-
ries after intellectual freedom is obtained. These things con-
sidered, we are very far from having any reason to suppose
that men would be re-oiiganiJced and an end to the changeable

40e

state of things would hp put, by this time, if it were the ioteft'
tion of the Almighty that they ever will be.

Now if there be no evidence against a future state ; and if
we were to admit that there is no evidence in favor of it, the
question as to our future existence would come under the
common bead of, It may be so^ or, It mag not. It would be a
question concerning which we must be opinion-neuter, there
being no evidence /or nor agaitist. But if any evidence in
favor of a future state can be adduced, then have we so much
reason to believe in a future state. That some such evidence
Can be gleaned from the book of nature, we shall now attempt
to show.

We find that every thing — unless we except man — appears
to be fornied for something bej^ond its present existence, for
some other purpose than merel} that it may exist. By means
of (he heavenly bodies, the tun, earth, &c. vegetables exist ;
vegetables give support to animals ; one animal is subservi-
ent to another, this to another, and so on, up to man. Now
are we to say that man who is buried six feet below the sur-
face of the earth, is an exception to this rule ?* and are we to
suppose that the existence of man in this life, is the highest
and ultimate ol^ectofGod ? is the God of nature a God that
is so far pleased with the groans, the toys, the songs and sup*
plications of mortal men, that these are the ultimate objects
for which he created and suffers to exist, the stupendous uni*
▼ersc ? We can see no higher objects if the present existence
of man be his last.

* Should it be said that there is nothing in the nature of things
which requires that man should be buried to such a depth as u»t to
enrich the soil, or be food for other Ruimala : and if he were not
thus buried, he, like all other beini's, would answer some purpose
l>eyond his present existence ; it roi^t be replied thnt he would
then answer no purpose superior to present human existence.

4M

A£;flin, how many infants die which answer no purpose but
to bring sorrow to their parents. — Should it be said that they
are brought forth, and they die, as the necessary consequent
ces of the present natqre of things, and that God has no par^
ticular designs in their birth or death, — the questton may be
asked, why is the present nature of things such that human
beings must experience much affiiction ? Can we suppose
that an Almighty Being suffers the nature of things to be such
that (here must necessarily be much human misery, merely
for sake of this misery ? Or does this misery Imve some con-
nexion with a future state ? It is said that nothing is in vain ;
and is not this misery suffered to be, that men may know in
« future state what misery is, and thereby be more happy un-
derthesame circumstances than if (hey had no notion of such
a thing as misery ? U it not rational to suppose that God, who
is the cause of men being horn into this world under such cir*
cumstances that there is a cause for every one of their ac-
tions, ultimately intends the happiness of all , and that one of
bis ways of bringing about this happiness, or, if you please, of
increasing it, is to first teach men what misery is — teach
them by experience, the only way in which they can be
taught ?

That God may be equally good to all men, a future exist-
ence seems to be necessary : we think it must be admitted
that some men experience more misery in proportion to their
happiness in this life, than others. We do not believe
that man has any claims on the Almighty for a future aitd
happy state of existence, for any thing he does in this life*
So on the other hand, we do not believe that man deserves a
future state of misery for any thing he does in this life; but
th;i( God may be equally good towards all m^n — that all men

«

may enjoy equal shares of happiness in proportion to Iheir

shares of misery, a future existence is necessary*

51

40S

The rast superiority of man over the brute creation, and
bis capability of improvement in knowledge and virtue, ap-
pear to lis to argue a little in favor of his future eiistence.

Another consideration which may have some weight with
one who is hot an atheist, is the wonderful display of God^s
sovereignty which a reorganization of all human beings that
ever did or will die, would be. One can scarcely picture to
himself the greatnes" of such a thing. It would be an occa-
sion of a thousand fold more astonishment and heartfelt
gratitude thai^the creation of the universe ; for at that time
we may suppose there were but few to wonder and rejoice.
It Would most firmly convince every one that there is a God.
Only conceive of millions of millions of hunrtan beings, of all
ages,- tongues and nations — parents and children, brothers,
tisters and friends, at one time coming to life, and beholding
each other ! We should then behold the men of former ages^
concerning whom we have read with §o much interest ; should
lie infon»ed of the important events that had occurred since
our death ; and should find that the God of nature did not
treate man merely to see him squirm in this world of toil and
paiti. Then should we (iniidels) be overjoyed in fiuding that
we were not to depart trom our friends into regions of endless
torments, and being the more happy on being thus disappoint*
ed, we should see that the God of goodness suffered Adam^s
children to scare one another with hell-fire and damnalion^
for the same purpose that be sufiered other causes of misery
to exist ! Then should we love and praise God with all our
powers — then should we be in the kingdom of heaven, every
one of us, altogethert with great rejoicing and thankfulness of
beart ! — Ah, yes : the God that made the universe had some
bigher object in view, than a shorfaud sorrowful existence of
men.

40d

CHAPTER XXXir.
On Human Happiness, Good and Evil, Morality .^ j^c;

Human happiness consists in agree«ible couscient actions
of the nervous system of human beings, — be these actions,
actions of the organic and cerebral extremities of the nerves
a:4one ; or of nerves and the sensorium together ; or of the
sensorium alone. When these actions take place only ia
the organic and cerebral extremities of nerves, they consti*
tute agreeable sensaiions ; when 'they take place in nerves
and (he sensorium together, they constitute agreeable percep*
tions ; and when they take place in the sensorium aloae, they
constitute agreeable thoughts*

That portion of happiobss which consists in agreeable sen-
sations and perceptions, is generally called pleasure* As
all sensations and perceptions are a higher degree of conscious-
ness than mere sensorial actions or thoughts ; that portioa
of happiness called pleasure is more vivid than mere senso-
rial happiness* But in proportion as it ia mere vivid, its du-
ration is more transient ; for it is attended with a greater
wear and tear of the system, which wear and tear not only
disenables'the system for being the subject of agreeable con*
scient actions, but often gives rise to conscient actions of a
different and opposite nature, constituting misery. — Mervoui
happiness or pleasure is like the flash of shavings ; but senso-
rial happiness, like the burning of coal, is less vivid and mora
permanent.

The CAUSES of happiness may be divided into tworclassesi
immediate and remote. The imniediate causes are impres*
aions upon the senses and sensorial tendencies ; the latter are
causes of sensorial happiness, the former of nervous happiness,
or pleasure. The remote causes of happiness are very nu*
merous and varied : whatever conduces to our health is of
this class ; and what people mean by honor, wealthy power,
&c., belongs to this class of causes ; though, indeed, we are
not so happy in possessing these things as we are in the act of
obtaining them.

It is often asserted, and has been maintaiaed by philoso-
phers, that God is almighty : and that he wills the bappiuesa

of mankind* But adniitting there is any hiitnan misiery— ^and
there is certainly an incalculable amount of it— to unsophis'-
ticated common sense one ofthe^e opinions concerning the
Deity m«ist be erroneous: ; or at least the assertion, that he
will< the happiness of mankind murft betaken in a certain
limited sense : we must understand by it, that he wills such,
happiness of mankind as they actually experience^, and not
perfect, unmin^led happiness* It would he highly absurd, if
not a contradiction in terms, to »ay that thnigs are not as an
Almighty Being wishes ihnm to be.

Ju>t so cerlRin a< there is any such thing as human misery,
just so certain the Deiry is not almighty, or does not will the
per/ret happiness of mankind* It avails nothing to say mrin
is as happy as he can be under the present nature of things ;
for aii almighty Being who is the Author of nature might have
had the nature of things difTerent — might have decreed that
no disagreeable action take place in a man^s nervous system
—or may still have it different. As little dofes it avail to
say that man is a free a;»eiit, and brings tiis mi?«pry upon him-
self; lor man is nota free agent, unless ai.tions occur in his
head and muscles without causes; aud admitting him to be a
free agent, we could only say he brings his misery upon him-
self because his nature is such — which nature an Almighty
Being may change or might have caused to be diflferent* It
amounts to nothnig to imagme a devil into existence, and saj
that he is ihe author of human misery ; for an Almighty Be*
ing may destroy even a real devil, or might have prevented
his existence at all. The means that proud man has invent-
ed, to reconcile the sentiment of God^s omnipotence with the
sentiment of his willing the perfect htppiness of mankind,
are truly laughable — as much so as one's getting into a basket
and trying to lift himself up*

We hold that the D-ity is Almighty, but does not will the
perfect happiness of mankind* And instead of virtually main*
taining that he is not Almighty, and imagining enemies of his
into existence who, notwithstanding all his pains to subdue
them, are still frustrating his noble designs with great success,
we thank him for our present existence which, notwithstand-
ing all our present pains and expectations of a better after this,
is so dear to us that we are exctedingly loth to part with it.
And we hold that our present misery is intended as a meaus of

405

'^'Vl )*endering o* more hnppy in a future pta<e than we otherwite
v'ij' should he, under ihr saine circunwtances.
•W't Where id the evidence that (he present state of things is
laihe not 89 God wills or wishes il to he — where is the evidenre
ernie that he wishes our perfect happiness? Archdeacon Faley
?*jfe tell* us, I hat :—

*^ When God created the human species, either he witched
their happiness, or he witched their miser^f, or he wiis indifie*'
rent and unconcerned about hoth.

^' If he had wished our mssery, he miglit have made sure o{
his purpose, by tbrming oui senses to be ^o many sores and
pains to us, as they are now inslruments of gratitiration and
enjoyment ; or by placing us amidst objects so ill suited (o our
perceptions, as to have continually ofTended us, instead of
ministering to our retVrshment and delight. He m'ght have
made, for example, every thing we tasted bittec, every (hing
we saw loathsome; eve:y thin^ we tourhed a sting; every
smell a stench ; and evcr\ sound a discord*

^' If he had heen indiHoront aboul our happiness or misery,
Vfc must impute tooui pood forlune (as ail design by this sup-
position is excluded) boih the c»paci(y of our »enKe> to re-
ceive pleasure, and the supply ol external objects fitted to
produ«:e it.
. ** But either of these (and slill more both of th^m) being
too much to be allribuied to accident, nothing remains but the
first ^uposition. that God, when he created the human spe*
cies, wished their happiness ; ai«d made for them the provi*
sion which he has made, with that view, and for that purpose*
^* The same argument may be proposed in diilereiit lerrns,
thus: Contrivance proves design; and the predoHiiiiant ten-
dency of the Contrivance indicates the disposition of the de-
signf^r. I'he world abounds with contrivances ; and all the
contrivances which we are acquainted with, are directed lo
bef.eficial purposes. Evil, no doubt, exists; but is nereri
that %ve can perceive, the object of contrivance, leeth are
contrived to eat, not to ache ; their aching now and then is
incidental to the contrivance, perhaps* inseparable from it;
or even, if yoU will, let it be called a defect in he <ontri-
vaiice; but it is not the object of it. This is a distinction
which well deserves to be attended to. In describing imple-
ments of husbapdry, )ou would hardly say of the sickle, Uiat
it is made lo cut the reaper^s fingers, though, from lh« €on«

406

t

jtruction of the iostnmient, and the manner of using it, this
mischief ofieii happens* Bat if you had occasion to describe
instrunienU of torture or execution^ this, jou would say, is to
dislocate the joints ; this to break the bones ; this to scorch the
soles of the feet. Here pain and misery are the very objects of
the contrivance. Now nothing of this sort is to he found in the
works of nature. We never discover a train of contrivance
to bring about an evil purpose. No anatomist ever discov-
ered a system of organization calculated to produce pain and
•disease ; or^ in explaining the parts of the human body, ever
said, this is to irritate ; this to inflame ; this duct i^ to con-
vey the gravel to the kidneys ; this gland to secrete the ha«
mour which forms the ^ouU If by chance he come at a part
of which he knows not the use, the most he can say is, that it
is useless ; no one ever suspects that it is put there to incom*
mode, to annoy, or to torment. Since then God hath called
forth his consummate wisdom to contrive and provide for our
happiness, and the world appears to have been constituted
with this design at first, so long as this constitution is uphold-
en by him, we must in reason suppose the same design to con-
tinue."

But we are not altogether satisfied with the learned Doc-
tor's reasoning. When he speaks of our happiness and misery
in the first sentence of the preceding quotation, we wish he
had informed us whether, when God created the human spe-
cies, he wished them to be totally happy or totally miserable ;
or only as happy as we are and as miserable as we are. If
this last be his meaning, we can agree with him,--*we can ad-
mit that wlien God created the human species, be intended
them to be both happy and miserable, alternately «as we are.
But if he mean perfect happiness and ferfeci misery, then we
have two things to say. First, as we are somewhat happj
and somewhat miserable, ^'God hath called forth his consum-
mate wisdom to contrive and provide for our happiness^' in
vain ; — he is not almighty, he cannot accomplish even his
own wishes and designs. Second, this sentence of Paley,
though advanced as if it were a self evident proposition, is
very far from being 9uch« If God neither wished our perfect
happiness, nor perfect misery, it does not follow that he ^' was
indifferent and unconcerned about both.'' We might as well
say of a grey piece of cloth, the maker of it wished it white,
or he wished it black, or he was indifferent and unconcerned

- 40T

aboat either. VV^e should not saj this — we should say he
wished it not white, and he wished it not black, but he wished
it grey. Just so we say of our present state, it is grey, and is
just what the Almighty wished it to be when he ^^ called forth
bis consummate wisdom'' in creating the uoivene, of which
iDfin is a part.

Paley remarks that the world abounds with contrivances,
but among the whole there is not one contrivance of nature's
God for the express purpose of producing misery ; and this
bethinks is sufficient evidence that God wills Ihejbappiness
of mankind. But Paley does not seem to come to the point
concerning this matter. — ^All misery is confined to the ner-
Tous system s it is a disagreeable consciousness — a disagree-
able conscieot action of the brain, or of the brain and nervefr
together; and the question is, did-he who is the Author of
our being, and of all things around, so constitute the nervous
system that disagreeable conscient actions may be excited in
it ; and has he created any things which are capable of exci-
ting these actions ? If so, then he is the author of our misery
in the same sense he i^ the author of our happiness* There
may be more things which give us pleasure, than there are
that give us pain — though few if any things are created ex*
pressly and exclusively for either — and man may be the sub-
ject of much more happiness than misery ; but there is notb-
ing under heaven which argues that God wished the perfect
happiness of mankind. On the contrary, we have sufficient
reason to believe that he is able to render us perfectly happy,
and to accomplish every thing he wishes to, notwittistanding
all the braiD-begolten devils that be. — We shall show present-
ly why many deists and believers in a supernatural religion
are so loth to admit that He« who is the Author of our nature,
and of all things around, is the Author of our misery, in the
same sense be is the Author of our happiness.

The words Good and £vt7, like all other words, are of hu-
man invention. Thev are both general terms. Every thing
which IS productive of human happiness, is good ; every thing
which is productive of human misery, is evil. All things are
good or eviU according to circumstances ; or in other words,
what is good — what is productive of happiness— on one oc-
casion, may be evil — may be productive of misery — on anoth-
er. Perhaps there is nothing under heaven that is invariably

4oe

good orinrariablv and piirel}* evil, under a)) circumstances
benr.e it is common t6 9h} of h thing, it is good in its place, or
it is ^ood, iryoi] make proper use of it. But if it be believed
that a thing in the long run and broad run. is productive, of
more happiness than misery^ it is called good, thoui^h under
some particular circumstances it may be productive of some
considerable misery. So if a thing be productive of some
})appin(*ss. bu» much more misery, it is pronounced evil. No
one would think of catling the sun a bad or evil thing because
it sometimes* burns one^s «kin, or parches the ground in a
drought : but distilled spirits are generally and justly account-
ed evil, for they are the cause of more human misery thao
bappiness.

Ftce and Virtue are words which we propose to use in a
more limited sense than the words good and evil. We roa-
sider virtue and vice hs bearing the same relation to good and
evil, that pleasure bears to happiness. Virtue and vice con-
stitute only a part of good and evil. They consist in those
actions of men which are productive ofliappiness and misery.
• J'lie word virtue, then, is a'^eneral term comprehending
all those human actions which tend to human happiness,
either by actually giving rise to it, in those cases in which it
could hardly be said the person is either happy or miiierablei
or hy relieving misery when it exists, or by preventing its ex-
istence. And the word vice is a general term, comprehend-
ing all those human actions whrch tend to human misery, or
indeed wanton misery of any sentient being.

Such being the meanings which we alta( h to the words good
and evil, virtue and vice, or virtuous and vicious *, we sec why
many are loth to admit that God is the aiiihor oJ our misery
in the same sense he is the author ol our happiness. It seems
to be the same as saying iliat God is evil or vicious ; but we
muiit remember that almost* every thing produces both hap-

i)ines8 and misery — the same tiling bein<4good in one particu-
ar instance, though not in another. Coitsequently there is a
good in the particular, and a good on the whole. Whatever in
the long run and broad run is productive of more happiness
than mibery, must be, and is, pronounced good ; although it
may be the cause of some, even much, misery. It follows,
then, that if there be more lla|)pTne^s than m sery among cre-
ated beings, the Author of thi-m is really Hiid 4l).<*o)utely good,
and not evii| any more than the sun, which, tiiou^b it parch

409

tile ground in a drought, and for a few days in the nummer
render those in a southern climate uiicoinfortable, is essential
to our existence and all that we enjoy*

The author of our being is good and almighty, notwith-
standing he has been so very ^ood to us, that some proud fel-.
lows took it into their heads that he never intended, and is dis-
pleased at, whatever is productive of human misery ; and
have degraded his character — a*^ it respects his power — by
imagining enemies of his into existence to acrouni for this
misery, which enemies are mntinually frustrating the designs
and wishes of the ALMIGHTY ; notwithstanding, with much
ado, he has suc^^eeded in getting the immaterial beitigs into
chains! Awav with these absurdities, and h't us embrace the
solid (ruths which reason discovers. — We need not fear of
representing the Deity in a more degradirig point of view thaQ
he has been represented. — When we come to know that our
misery in this life is only intended to render us more happy
in a future, we i^hall have reason to exclaim, the goodness of
God* is past all conception.

As many things are productive of such a mixture of happi-
ness and misery, that it is not always clear whether in the end
they give rise to more of the one than the other, we must of*
ten reason [think over factt>] to determine -whether a thing is
productive of more happinesii than misery ; hence arises the
science of ethics or morality. Tlnse who are extensively
acquainted with the nature and relations of things, and are
able to discover the distant consequences of certain courses
of conduct, may discover consequences of certain actions or
principles of action which other men do not learn from the
book of nature. Hence some men may teach others in some
cases, what is productive of more happiness than misery, or
more misery than happiness — may convince them what is
Tirtuous and what is vicious, when they would otherwise be
in doubt or mistaken.

But no man, however learr)ed, has ever existed in a future
state, or knows that any course of conduct in this world of
causes and effects, will have any influence on our future hap-
piness. He may speculate about this matter, and so far as his
speculations appear reasonable, so far will men believe ; for
to believe in a low degree and to have a thing appear reasona-
hU^ are (he same thing : — what appears probabU or certain to
any one, be believes iu still higher degrees ^ and what ^^le

52

410

kni^itn he heWereti in the highest possible decree. Bat a mn
cannot bring any hook of human anthorship, informing u« of
a connexion between our co»iduM here and our hjippiness
hereafter, which is any more to be depended on than a book
ivhich may be written nowadays ; for there are men now liv-
ing who can see as far into the consequences of human ac*
tion« as any man that ever hved.

If any man bring forward a book whereby to regulate our
conduct, and pretend that it is of divine origin, he mi;st first
prove this, before he can expect we shall regard it with bhnd
iaith — faith not founded on reason and evidence. We know
there are three or four bookti in the world which have been
brought forward with such pretensions ; but there is nothmg
to substantiate the divine origin of eitlier of these books, ex-
cept their own contents. If on examining these books we
discover any thing supernatural in them— any marks of divin*
ity in them — we must suppose that they originated from a
source superior to the natural creature man ; but if we dis-
cover nothing supernatural in them — nothing but what fhay
be of human origin, then we have no evidence that they are
of divine authority. — The earth, and every thing else which
tre know that man could not make, we consider a production
of nature's God ; but we never believe that God has any im-
mediate agency in the production of any thing which man may
make, unless we except these books. We know that these
books relate miracles ; and miracles are supernatural events;
but the relation of an event is nothnig supernatural, be the
event what it may. Neither is it supernatural or uncommon
for men to be deceived, or to relate falsehoods knowingly.
There are no miracles p any book, but merely the relation
of miracles ; and in determining whether a relation of a mir-
acle be true or false, we know of no surer and better rule,
than to inquire with ourselves, which is the most rational sup-
position — which the most frequently happens — that men are
deceived or lie intentionally, or thai events occur contrary to
the lawfr of nature. — If the Book of Nature tell us one
ihihg, and a paper book the contrary, then one or the other
must be false ; and as God is the Author of the Book of Na-
ture, we cannot hesitaiC to sa} the paper book is false and
not of divine origin, unless we can helieve that the Deity tells
US one thing iu bis universal book, and the contrary lu a book

411

^liich is known but fo a small part of the human beings that
have been, are, and will be.

Now as it is not known that our conduct in this life, will ,
bave any influence on our happiness hereafter, we th.nk it
proper to consider morality and religion as two distinct thingf
— the one as having relation to our happiness \i\ this hfe, the
other as consisting of doctrines and speculations concerning
our future existence* Religion may roncur with morality, or
include it, as one thing includes another ; but still they are dis«
stinct things, and a man may be moral if not religious, and re-
ligious (according to our definition of religion) if not moraJ*
He may believe and profess to believe certain doctrine;*, opi-
nions, statements, &c. ; and yet he may not act in conformity
to those principlcb which are, or are believed to be, pioductive
of happines<« in this life. If religion be nothing but morality,
then is it nothing better or worse than morality ; but if it
be something besides morality, then is it something distiiMit
from it.

According to these views, if it be a religious doctrine that
certain courses in this life are necessary to our happiness ia
the future ; theu^as the future will be infinitely longer in du-
ration than the present, whoever believes sdch doctrine acts
consistent with his belief in pursuing such courses and in striv-
ing to have others pursue them, even if he sacrifice all world-
ly enjoyments and render all around him unhappy in doing so*
The glgriou!) end he has in view justifies the meani. It it
pnrrhatiing a pearl of great worth, without any thing like ao
equivalent — he mortifies the flesh to be sure, but then it is to
ensure the everlasting happiness of the '^ soul.^^ which is as
great a reward as the most selfi<«h man could aok.

But the mere moral man aims at, the happiness of the hu-
man family (including himself of course) in this life; and do*
ing what he can to render his own days long and happy, as
well as: those of his fellow creatures, he trusts, unconce rnedlyi '
that Fie who is the author of nature and his present happi-
ness, and he who cannot punish his creatures but for some
good purpose, will deal mercifully with him in a future state
of existence. But to return to the consideration of virtue.

We have said that virtue consists in those actions of humaa
beings which tend to human happiness. Perhaps it will be
said that human actions may be productive of happiness al-
though the actor or agent did not act with the luteution of

412

prodticing such eflect, but perhaps even with the intention
ofproducing paid ; a «d if so we cannot rail hi^ action virtuous*
Consequently in ^svnig a definition of viitne. we ought to in-
clude intentions aa well as actions. Bnt what i> an intention
but an action of that whicli intends — what i^ it but an action
or actions of that which thittksi — what is it but actional of the
senKonuin ? In saying that virtue rotisists in actions of hunnan
beings that are productive of liappinp<!«, we would bi* under-
stood to include actions of the nervous system as well as mus-
cular. The muscular ai^tions of ait} m>in are not generally
the immediate cause of ha()piiiess in others, and his neivous
actions — his intentions — are one hnk more remote in the
chain of causes that ^ive rise lo happiness in others, than his
muscular actions ; but still they iire as truly actions of him as
the motions of his lirnhs : t!iey are actions which operate in
producing the etTect [happiijess] through the medium of his
muscles.

Perhaps it will be further objected to our definition of vir-
tue, that a mai.'s actions may prove a cause of mi^^ery In oth-
ers, thout^h he intended noihing but happiness. To this we
would reply : — We do not fhftermine whether a thing be good
or virt^uous. by the effects it may have in some few particular
cases; we take into consideration its ^rncro/ tendency — we
consider what effects such a thing generally produces. Con-
sequently if n man's intentions be such as arc generally pro-
ductive of happiness, we call them virtuous, althongA on ac-
count of some unforeseen circumstance they be productive of
the reverse, in some particular ca<ie. If a man intend to ren-
der a fellow being happy, hi^ intention is such as generally
has this effect, and is, therefore, a virtuous intentiou. So on
the other hand, if a man intend to render a fellow being mi-
serable, his intention is vicious although it may prove a cause
of no nfisery, but much happiness even in this fellow being.
Consequently, in determining whether a man's intentions be
virtuous or vicious in any case in which he acts, we do not so
much regard the consequences of his action, as the circum-
stances under which he acts. If these circumstances be such
as to lead us to beheve that he intended happiness, and not
misery, we say his intentions were virtuous, and himself me-
ritoru>us.

Tho^e actions of human beings which are productive of
more bappinotfs than misery, are truly aAd absolutely virta-

413

ous, and th^se actions constitute virf up ; liut owing to circum-
staticce; which give rise to a dilTereiirc of education, in the
widest sense of the term, men in all ages and countries maj
not wholly agree as lo what is produclive of more happiness
than misery — may not wholly agree as to whfit is virtuous and
what is vicioii«. Hence in some placet^ a man may he consi-
dered meritorious for doing that which in other places he
would he condemn* d for doing; and iie may feel that he does
right — may feel n sense of approhation in doing what others
would feel remgrse or disapprobation in dotng.

However, men in all pans of the world believe very nearly
alike as to what is virtuous and what is vicious — what it is
right for them to do. an<l what it is wrong ft. r them to do.
This IS the ckse, becau>e all men are chiefly taught what it is
right and wtiat it is wrong tor them to do. by one and the same
universal tiook the book of nature. Paper books aie net lie?'
cej'sary to teach them what actions of others are necessary to
produce happiness or misery in themselves; nor to teach
them that men are very nearly alike as lo what renders them
happy or miserable. It is only in a few instances that*, by
pointing Out the remote consequences of certain actions or*
principles of conduct, some men may teach olliers what is
productive of more happiness than misery, or more misery
than happiness — what is right and what is wrong (or them to
do — what is virtuous and what is ylciou^ — what they ought to
do and what they ought not to do.

We hold that what a man ought to do, it is right for him to
do. and what it is ri^ht for hiiii to do, it is virtuous in him to
do ; and what is virtuous is productive of happiness, the grand
obj< cl of all human beings.

The question now arises, why ought men to do that which
is productive of happiness. The answer is, l)ecause it is
productive of happiness. This is the answer which must
ultimately be given, let us give as many other answers before
we are compelled to give this, as we can devise. 'J*hose who
believe in a future state of rewards and punishments — and in-
deed those who do not — may say that we ought to practice vir-
tue, ought to do that which is productive of happiness, be-
cause it is the will of God that we do so; but why ougtU we
to obey the will of God? Because we shall be happy here or
hereafter, if we do, and miserable if we do not. 'i'his is the
most cogent answer that can be given to the question, why

414

ought we to obey the will of God ? But in this case, the hiq^-
«8t inducement to perform a certain deed — that which renders
it obligatory on us to pt^rform it — is the consequent happiness.

Should any one presume to say, that the Almighty is pleas-
ed at some of our actions, and .displeased at others, and that
we ought to perform certain actions because they please the
Almighty ; then happiness would be the end and inducement
of performing such actions : the happiness however would be
that of the Deity — deisdcal happiness, instead of human. But
we can hardly bnng ourselves to i*ay that the happiness of the
Almighty is at all dependent on the dependent worms of his
creation.

We do not believe in acts of dismterested benevolence ; —
we believe it would be contrary to the laws of volition for a
man to do a voluntary act which he does not desire to do ; and
to gratify a desire is to gratify self. Those who maintjkin
that we often do acts of kindness without anv selhsfi motive,
rely much on the fact that we often fl) to the relief of a fel-
low creature in distress before we have had time to reflect on
the good that will result to us from doing so. But the advo-
cates of the selfish system may reply, that the succession of
thoughtsjs so rapid, that it is impossible for any to say, with
certainty, that we ever fly to the relief of any one on seeing
faim in distress, before we have had time to think over several
thoughts. They may say, also, that we have previously
found out that it gives ud jpleasure to help one in distress-—
that it causes such one to feel grateful towards us, and we feel
well in knowing that one feels grateful towaids us. Conse-
quently when we see a person in distress, there is no more need
of our stopping to consider whether it will be conducive to
our happiness to help him, than there is of our stopping to
consider whether we had better exert ourselves to prevent
OUT falling into the fire, when we are in danger of it. Again,
it may be said, that owing to the principle of association, it
gives us disagreeable consciousness to sec a fellow being in
distress; and by giving him relief we relieve this disagreea-
ble consciousness, that is, render ourselves more happy, or if
jou please, less miserable*

We do not say that we alwavs think of self, any more than
we think of the king of England, when we fly to the relief of
another; but we say that if we were every way just as happy
in not relieving the distresses of a fellow being as in relieving

41$

tU we shonld have no desire to relieve it ; and that we never
do a voluntary act which we have no desire to do. — If to
maintain thi» be to maintain a selfish system of morality, then
we maintain such system.

But although we do not believe in acts of disinterested be-
nevolence, (using these terms in a strict phrosophical penae,)
still we would not say it is right for a man to perform a cer«
lain action — that he ought to perform it — that it is virtUdus^
in him to perform it ; because by performing it he increases
his own happiness solely ; and especially if he increase it at
the expense of another^s happiness. Bu( we say an action is
virtuous — is an action which the agent ought to perform — is
an action, for performing which the agent is meritorious, when
in the long run and broad run it increa<«es the sum of human
happiness more than it increases the sum of human misery*

Perhaps ii will be asked if a man ought to do an act which
renders himself less happy, provided by doing so he render
two or more as much more happy as he does himself less*
To this we answer, he is under no higher obligation to do so,
than he is to practice virtue* We should not call him vi*
cious— we should not call him a producer of misery — if he did
not perform such act ; but he would be virtuous if he did. As
it happens, the nature of things is such ihat a man very, sel-
dom renders himself less happy by rendering others more iio,
provided he act with the intention of doing what he thinks is
right — what he thinks will be productive of more happiness
than misery in the long run and broad run. A man may ren*
der a highwayman more happy by assisting him to escape jus*
tice, and may bring misery upon himself by doing so ; but he
does not do what he thinks is right when he does this ; that
is, if he know the highwayman to be such ; but if he do not^
law does not require him to be punished for the act.— Let us
offer a few moie remarks concerning disinterested benev*
oience.

Although to gratify a desire is to gratify self, and although
we do not do any voluntary act which we do not desire to do,
(except ft be from habit, which by the by we never should ac-
quire if we never acted, and never should act in the first
place if we had no desire to' act,) still different men may do
similar acts from different motives — if indeed it be proper to
call acts similar* when the motives are different. — One may
act with a view of receiving a recompense which be does not

-r

416

derive from within, but a recompense at <he expense of him
whom he assi^^ts : if he do not expect ready cash, he ma> ex-
pect some |{ood turn from him sonnet ime or other, and would
not assist him on any other principle. Anothei ma\ do a
like act, not with a view of receiving any pay in those things
which itien love to keep, as money, irood?*, privileges. &c* ;
biit with a view of causint; one or more to fe^*l grateful lo-
WHrdft him — to think well of him— or to prevent the mij^ery
he would experience in not acting. Such one perforons. aQ
act which has much more the appearance of disinterestedness
than the act of him who acts with the view of receiving a re-
compense in those things which men toil and Aght for ; but
it IB not an act \\hich the agent has no interest in performing.
This is a world in which we are all in pursuit of happiness ;
and that we may not hinder but help each other along, we are
80 constituted that we experience a disagreeable conscious-
ness whenever we do that which, by the hook of nature or
otherwise, we are taught to believe is opposed to the general
happiness of mankind ; and so constituted as to experierice
an agreeable consc iousness whenever we do that which we
believe has a reverse tendency. And as we believe those
actions for which the agent claims no recompense, in those
things which men toil for and love to keep, are productive of
more happiness than those which are sold for an equivalent
in those things which men toil and tight for ; we experience
a more distinctly agreeable con6ciou*«ness in contemplating
such actions, than in contemplating those tor which the agent
claims a recompense in th^e things which men are loth to
part with. Such actions as the former, we call acts of be-
nevolence ; but as we have said, they are not acts in which
the agent has no interest, and consequently not acts of dis-
interested l>enevolence.

We do not say that any part of us is constituted expressly
and solely for the intent that we may experience a disagreia-
ble or an agreeable consciousness whenever we contemplate
those actions of ourselves or others which we believe would
be, are, or have been, productive of misery or happiness. \Vc
say that oar constitution being such as it is, such conscious-
ness is one of the many effects that are to be traced to such
. constitution.

An action is witnessed by uf, or described to us ; it is an
action which we know to be, or believe to be, productive of

417

happiness ; the circumstances relating to it arp such that we
believe the auent intetideil this» happipe^s ; aiiil an emotioQ
arises in ii8, which we call a sense of approbation towards (he
agent. B'jt why does it arise, and what is the nature of it ?
Is it the V7im diate effect of witnessing or hearing of <iiich ac-
tion, and does it arise in all men on witnessnig or hearing of
such action ? Or docs something intervene between witnes*
ging the action and ihe existence of the emotion, which inter-
vening something may be different in different nuMi, and per-
haps wholly wanl)ng in some / The emotion wouid not arise
were it not for tho:ie iaw!> of the nervou<4 system — those uiti-
mate facts relative to the nervous system — on which our oth-
er emotions depend. Were it not that those actions of the
6en«orium which are in some way related, occur in connex-
ion, and likewise that on the m:«-uirei)ce uf certain sensorial
actions, coiisc'ent actions %>( nerves in or about the epigas-
tric region arise, such emotion %vould not ari**e on witnessing
the action. Tne mere optical perception of one per.-^on mur-
dering another, is no more disagreeable than the mere optical
perception of one person kissing anothei. If a man could be
produced with a well organized s^^temy but entirtly destitute
of sensorial tendencies, the sight of one person murdering
another would no more excite a disagreeable emotion in him
than the sight of one per<*on kissing another, or one per>oQ
wrestling, with another. It wouid not even suggest a single
thought ; it would excite an optical perception, and produce*
a sensorial tendency — tl i<4 would be all.

But owing to what we acquire by exi'CRTKX^cb, to wit, our
knowledge, oursensoiial tendencies — which, by the by, may
be, nay are, diiierent in different men— the optical perceptioa
of one person murdering another, may be followed by such
conscieut actions of the sensorium and of nerves, as consti-
tute a disagreeable emotion ; and this emotion, together with
the idea of the a^ent who intentionally kills, constitutes what
we call a sense of disapprobation towards such agent.

Some have used the word virtue to denote only those ac-
tions which, when contemplat(:d,give rise to a sense of appro-
bation ; but accordnig to this use of the word, an action ii
virtuous or not virtuous, depending upon the knowledge and
ntrooust%€S8 of those by whom it is contemplated*

53

418

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A Brief Sketch of the Opinions of several Ancient and Moderp
Philosophers^ concerning the ConblittUion and Phenomena of
Man : Given partly for the purpose of showing thai the ffy-

' pothesis of Sunt gave rise io the Sceptical Philosophy of
Berkley and Hume*

I do not know that any ancient philosopher ever ques-
tioned the existence of something which the word suul may
with propriety be used to signify : it appears thai all took the
existence of some such thing for granted. But they thought
differently concerning it? nature, and speculated not a little
concerning the way and manner in which it is afiected by ex-
ternal objects. Some maintained that it is of a spiritual, and
others that it is of a material nature. Those who held that it
is material, disputed to which of the four elements it belongs ;
whether to earth, air, fire, or water. Some field that it con-
sists in part of all these elements ; and that it perceives earth
by the earthly part ; water by the watery part ; and fire, by
the fiery part of the soul.

^^ The most spiritual and sublime notion," says Dr. Reid,
" concerning the nature of the soul, to be met with among
the ancient philosophers, i conceive to be that of the Plato-
pists. who held that it is made of that celestial and incorrup-
tible matter of which the fixed stars were made, and there-
fore has a natural tendency to rejoin its proper element."

From this it appears that the most ^* spiritual" notion of
the ancient philosophers concerning the nature of the sou),
is. that it is made of '^ matter !" and of nrmtter too, as gross
perhaps as that of which this earth is formed,

** It mu^t be obvious," says Dr. Good, in his Book of Na-
ture, vol. 2, ^^ tl at there never is, nor can be, any direct com-
munication between the mind and the external objects the
mind perceives, which are usually, indeed, at some distance
from the sense that gives notice of them. Thus, in looking
at a tree, it is the eye alone that really beholds the tree,
while the mind otily receives a notion of its presence, by
aome means or othei, from the visual organ. What then is
the medium by which such commuuicatiou is made, which in

'i

I

419

ftuceathe mind, seated as it is in some undeveloped part of
the brain, fo have a correspondent perception of the form,

' size, colour, smell, and even distance of objects with the sen*
aes which are seated on the surface of the body ; and which,
at the same time it conveys this information, produces such
an additional effect that the mind is able at its option to re-
vive the perception, or call up an exact notion or idea of
these qualities at a distant period, or when the objects them*
selvet^are no longer present ?^'

" The principal systems that were started among the phi-
losophers of Greece (o explain the origin and value of human
knowledge, were those of Plato, of Aristotle, of Epicurus,
and of the sceptics, especially Pyrrho and Ar^esilas ; and the
principal systems to which they have given birth in later
times, are those of Des Cartes, Locke, Berkley, Hume, Hart-
ley, Kant, and the Scottish school of Common Sense» at the
head of which we are to place Dr. Reid.

^' I had occasion fo observe, in our first series of lectures,
that it was a dogma common to many of the Greek schools,
that matter, though essentially eternal, is also, in its primal
and simple state, essentinlly amorphous, or destitute of all

form and quality whatever ; [we can as readily admit that
such matter is eternal, as that nothing is eternal ;] and I fur-
ther remarked, that the ground- work of this dogma consisted
in a belief that form and quality are the contrivance of an in*
telligent agent; while matter, though essentially eternal, is
essentially unintelligent. Matter, therefore, it was contend-
ed, cannot possibly assume one mode of form rather than
another mode ; for if it were capable of assuming any kind,
it must have been capable of assuming every kind, and of
course of exhibiting intelligent effects without any intelligent
cause.

*' Form, then^ according to the Platonic schools, in which
this was principally taught, existing distinct from matter by
the mere will of the Great First Cause, presented itself, froni
all eternity, to his wisdom or togos^ in every possible variety;
or, in other words, under ai\ infinite multiplicity of iiicorpo'
real or intellectual patterns, exemplars, or archetypes, to'
which the founder of this school gave the name of Ideas ; a
term that has descended without any mischief into the popu*
lar language of our own day ; but which, m the hands of (he
8cho61men, and various other theorists, has not uufrequeutljr

420

been productive of r':jrofi;ious errora and ftbnges* By the
uniofr of these intcllcciiial jiichetypcs wiih the whole, or any

Eorlion of primary or incorporeal maNer, matter immediately
t'comes embodied, assumes palpable forms, correspondent
with the archetypes unitf:d with it, and i^ rendered an object
of perception to the external serij^es ; the mind, or intelligent
prnjciple, however, — ivhich i« an omanaiion from the great
intelligent can^e, — never ^yerceivhig any ikivg more than the
int'Uectual or formalivft icLas of objects as they are presented
to the senses ^ and reasoning concerning them by those ideas
alone."

'" The only es.<ientia1 variation from this hypothesis which
Aristotle appears to have mtrudtd into his own, consists lo
his having tloth(*d, if I mav be allowed the expression, the
nked ideas of Plato, with the actual qualities of the objects
perceived ; his doctrine beinu, that the sense, on perceiving
or being exrited by an external object, conveys to the mind
a real restmblance of it ; which, however, though pos^scssing
form, colour, and other qualities of matter, is not matter it-
self, but an insubstantial image, like the picture in a mirror;
as though the mind itself were a kind of mirror, and had a
power of n-flrcling the image »»f whatever object is pri^ent-
ed to the external senses. This insubstantial image or pic-
ture, in order to distinguish it from the intellectual pattern or
idea of Pl-ito, he denominated a phanlasjn,^^

''Epicurus concuired in the doctrine that the mind per-
ceives sensible objects by means of sensible imajies ; but he
contended that those ima^ s are as strictly material as the
objects from which they eminate ; and that, if we allow them
to possess material qualities, we must nertssarily allow them
at Ihe same time to possess thefubstance to which such qual-
ities appertain. Epicurus,, therefore, believed the percep-
tions of ifie mind to le real aint substantial effi<nes, and to
these effigies he gave ihc name of SPKCIKS. in contradistinc-
tiiMi to the iijsub-sfantial phantasms of Aristotle, and the in-
tellectual or formative ueas of Piato. He maintained that
all external obiects are [>erpetually throwing off fine alternate
^av(s of dfftrent flavourN odou^. colours, shapes, and other
qiialities ; which, by {.inking aj^ainsl !he;r appropriatesenf.es,
excite in these;.j.es themselves a perception of the qualities
and ^ n se. re of ifie parent olvect ; and are innnedialely con-
vey eU by the scuiitnt ciiaiiuel to the chamber of the niiud, or

421

sensory^ wifhont any injury to their texture : in the same
iDanner as heat, hglit, and magnetism peivadt; solid sub:iCan-
ces, and still retain their intejijritv.'*

" With Aristotle and Epicurus Deft Cartes contended tliafr
the mind perceives external objects by images or resemo lan-
ces presented to it : these imagegi he called, after Plato, idem ;
thoiii^h he ntsilher acceded to the meaning of this term as
given by Plato, nor allowed with Aristotle or Epicurus that
they proceed from the objects themselves, and are trans-
mitted to the mind tiirough the channel of the senses ; so (hat
the precise significatioii he attatched to this term is not clear."
He conlendtKi, " th.it the mind has a laru;e stock of ideas of
its own. implanted by the hand of nature, atid not derived
from the world around us : ideas, Iheretbre, that are strictly
innate, and m^y be found on being searched for. though other-
wise not necessarily present to tjie mind's contemplation."

As to Mr. Locke, slrangt^ as it may appear to those con-
versant wilh his writing's, it has been contended by some that
he did not consider an idea as any thing distinct from the mind 4
but we think Dr. Reid was correct ni classing Locke wilh ihc
ideal philosophers. The pas?iages quoted from Locke, by
Dr.^Tliomas Brown, in his Philos4>phy of (he iiuman Mmd,
to show that Locke did not consider ideas as any thing dis-
tinct from the mind, appear to us to prove no such thing ; es-
pecially when we consider that, according to Locke, the mind
at birth is as destitute of idtas as an unwritten sheet of paper
is destitute of words ; that the mind receives ideas by
the senses, their proper inlets;* that it compares them, com-
pounds them, splits them up, trims off their excrescences and
stores them away for future use. " To ask," says Locke,
^' at what time a man has tirsl any ideas, is to aiik when he be-
gins to perceive ; having ideas and perception being the same
thing." From this passage it appears that perception is hav*

* " Metliinks," says Locke, ** the nnderstaiidin? is iiot niudi un-
like a closet, wholly shut from ]i|!:ht, with only sniiip litiip opening
left to let in fxtrrnal visible resemblnnres or ideas of things witixiut.
Would the pictures coming into such a dnrk room but stny iht re,
and lie so orderly as to be toHiid upon ' rrasion, it would ver\ niiicli
reseinbie the understaiulrng of a mini, in left^reiiie to alt ihe objtctg
of sight, and tht^ ideas of them." — Uutnan Uudersiandi/.g, liook
ii. chap. 11,^ 17.

4M

infr iiJeas ; bnf it does not appear that idea* are nothing dis-
tiucl Irom the mind. What is perception? Wli), it 13 having
ideas^ which are things that a new-born babe pot^sesses uot
though It possesses a mind or soul.

li)e following passage of Locke seem^ more than any other
io favor the opinion that he did not consider an idea as aiij
thing distinct froon the mind.

" The other way of retention, is the power to revive again
in our minds those ideas, which after impnnting have disap-
peare^i, or have been as it were laid aside out of sight ; and
tht:< we do, when we conceive heat or hght, yellow or sweet,
the object being removed. This is memory, which is, as it
were, the stoce-house of our ide^s. For the narrow mind of
man no: being capable of having many ideas under view and
consideration at once, it was necessary to have a repositoiy
to la} up those ideas, which at another time it might have use
of. But our ideas being nothmg hut actual perceptions ia
the mind, [alms^ our perceptions being nothing but ideas ac*
tuiilly in the min«l,] which cease to be any thing when there u
no perception of thtm^ this lading up of our ideas in the lepo-
silory of the memory, signifies no more but this, that the mind
has a power in man}* cases to revive perceptions, which it has
once had, with this additional perception annexed to them,
that it has bad (hem before. And in this sense it is, tnaf our
ideas are said to be in our memories, when indeed they are ac-
iualiy no where^ but only there is an ability in the mind when
it will to revive them again, and as it were paint them anew
on itself, though some with more, some with less difficult} \
tome more hvely. and others more obscurely."

On :he whole, it appears to us that Locke considered ideas
•s soniethuig distinct Irom the mind*— if not pictures or images
of things — »iomethiiig which we acquire by way of our senses
or b) ** reflection ;" but still when they are not perceived,
when they are ^^ laid aside as it were out of sight,^^ and not
^^ under view and consideration,'^ they are something so unlike
ideas in the mind'^s presence chamber, that they cannot properly
be called ideas ; for an idea, as he has defined it, is ^'whatever a
man of>serves and is conscious to himself he has in his mind ;''
consequently as ideas *' they are no where," — *' ideas ceasing
to be any thing (to the a<an that possesses them) when they
are not percfvedy

At any rate, if Locke did not cousider ideas as something

42S

distinct from (he mind, his E.^saj on human Untfentandin^
is a hook of metaphors, and in a philosophical point of view,
by no means worthy of the praiscfs that have been bes^towed
upon •!•

^*' la not,'^ says Sir Isaac Newton« ^^ the sensorium of animals
the place where the sentient substance is present ; and to whirii
sensible species of things are brought, through the nervei* »nd
brain, that there tbey may be perceived by the mind pre^^etit
in that place V* And says Dr. Clark, in one of his leftfirs to
Leibnitz — ^^ Without being present to the images of things
perceived, the soul could not possibly perceive them. A liv-
ing substance can only there perceive, where it is p^e^^ent*
Nothing can any more act, or be acted upon ttthere it is not
present than it can when it is not present. '^ Says Dr. Por-
tersfield — '^ How body acts upon mind or mind upon body, I
know not; but this I am very certain of, that nothing can act,
or be acted upon, where it is not ; and therefore, our mind
can never perceive any thing but its own proper modifica-
tions, and the various states of the sensorium, to which it is
present : so that it is not the external ^un and moon which are
in the heavens, which our mind perceives, but only their
image or representation, impressed upon the sensorium. How
the soul of i) seeing man sees these images, or how it receives
those ideas, from >ucb, Agitations in the seiiborium, I know not ;
but I am sure it can never perceive the exteral bodies them-
selves, to which it is not present.^' *^ The slightest philoso-
phy,'^ sa;s Mr. Hume, ^* teache^ us. that nothing can ever be
present to the mind, but an image or perception ; and that the
senses are only the inlets through winch these images are con-
veyed; without being able to produce any immediate inter-
course between the mind and the object. The table which
we see seems to diminish, as we remove farther from it: but
the real table which exists independent of us, suffers no alter-
ation : it was therefore nothing but its image which was pre-
sent to the mind* These are the obvious dictates of reason.^^
'**The mind,'' says Monboddo, *'is not where the body is, when
it perceives what is distant from the body, either in time or
place; because nothing can act but when and where it is*
Now, the mind acts when it perceives. The mind therefore,
of every animal who has memory or imagination, acts, and of
consequence exiitts, when and where tiie body is not; for it
perceives objects distant from the boUy, both in time and

424

place.'* — "I suppose.^' says Ma Icbranrhe, " that every one
will {>nirjt that we perceive not external objects iminedialelj
and of ihernselvea. We se^ the sun, the stars, and an infinity
of ol>jccts without us; and it is not at all probable that, upon
6U( \\ occasions, \\w boul rallies out of ihe body, in order lo be
pre>ent to the objects perceived. Sbe ^ees thenn not therefore
by themselves : and the immediate object ofihe mind is not the
thitiii; perceived, but -something that is intimately united to the
soul ; and if is that which i call an idea : so that b} the word
idea, I understand nothing else here but that which is nearest
to the mind when we perceive any object. It ought to be
carefully obseived, that, in order to the mind's perceiving any
object, it is absolutely necchsarj that the idea of that object
be actually present to it. Of this, it is imposs^ible to doubt.
The things which the soul perceives are of two kinds. They
are either in the boul, {wonder how things can be in an unex-
tendcd thing] or they aie without the soul. Those that are
in the soul, are its own thoughts; that is to say, all its dif-
ferent mod iticat ions. The soul has no need of ideas to per-
ceive these things. But with regard to things without the
soul, we caniwt perceive them but by me;ins of ideas.''*

From what has been advanced in this chapter, the reader
not only learns to what difiieult questions and wild nolious,
the hypothesis of soul has given rise ; but he is prepared to
see in what way thi!< hypothesis has given n^e to the sceptical
philosophy of Bt rkle) and Hinr.e. In the firsi place there
is a boul in a man's head, which perceives and thniks ; the
question now arises — How can the soul jM-rceive objects ex-
terior to the body, and in many instances qurle distaiki tromit?
" Nothing can act where it ii- not, an> more than wlien it is not.
Now the soul acts when it perceives ;" and it is excited to act
by that which it perceives. Of course, it must either sally out
of the brain to tfie obj<ct ; or the object must epter the head
to be present to tlie soul in the hiarn ; or something mu^t pass
from the object into the brain to be present lo the soul. JBut
it is quite unlikely that a man's soul flies away to the ^un m
the east, when he sees the sun, and the next instant — the man
turning round — flics away to the mour.tain in the west; and
it is als»o rather diflicult to admst that the sun itself enters the

* The quotations in the loifji.'oiii? piu^i^jri^ph, may all be found
in Stewart's Philosophy ol the iiuinao iMuid, pagts 46, 47, 48.

425

brain, for to say nothinf^ of its size, and the velocity witb
which it must move, it cannot be in but one brain at a time-—
jet millions may see the sun at the same instant ; consequent-
ly the necessary conclusion is, that when the soul perceives
an object, something passes from the object into the brain, to
be present to the soul — a something which by different philo-
sophers has been called by the different names of idea, phan-
tasm, species, image, and impression* But by whatever name
it be called, it is that which is present to the soul when it per-
ceives ; and indeed it is the only thing that the soul does per-
ceive ^ though for convenience sake, we say we perceive the
object which ^ives it off.

Thus we see that the hypothesis of soul gave rise to the
hypothesis of ideas or images, as things distinct from the per-
ceiving soul and the external objects said to be perceived*
Now says Mr. Hume, we have no evidence at all, and
never can have any» that any thing more exists than the per-
ceiving thing, and the images or impressions perceived* We
t:ilk about the sun, moon, and other objects without us, but
we can have no evidence that there are any such things —
we do not see them, we do not feel theni — the seeing, (eeling
thing perceives nothing but images or impressions, which may
— for aught any one can say to the contrary — exist indepen-
dent of any thing more gross and substantial ; and it is quite
beneath a philosopher to admit the existence of any thing of
which there is no evidence. Indeed, Mr. Hume did not
stop here ; but so far as I can learn from other authors, his
train of reasoning proceeded thus : — As to the existence of
matter or body, it is entirely out of the question, it is what no
reasonable man or philosopher can possibly think of contend-
ing for* There is nothing in nature but mind and perceptions
of mind — perceptions diversified, indeed, by being sometimes
stronger, and sometimes weaker, and which may on this ac-
count be properly distinguished by the names of impressions
and ideas. But how do we know that there is any nnnd —
how do we know that there is any thing but impressions and
ideas ? This is ihe utmost we can know, and even this we can-
not know to a certainly : for no body but fools will pretend
certainly to know or believe any thing. These ideas and
impressions tbllow? each other, and are therefore conjoined ;
but we have no prooi that there is any necessary connexion
between them. They are a " bundle of perceptions" that suc-

54

42e

ceed fftfb other wi*h inconceivable rapidity, and arc in per-
pciiial flnx; and hence I mvHf of lo-day, am no more I
Biys'fH of to-morrow, thai) 1 am Nebuchadnezzar or Cleopa-
tra. Sec Good's Book of Nature, vol. 2, p. 24^.

•00-

CHAPTER XXXIV.

4 Refutation of Professor Stewart'* s Argument for the existence

of Soul or Mind. *

" The notions we annex to the words matter and mind, as
is well remarked by Dr. Reid, are merely relative. If f am
apked what I mean by matter, I can oiily explain myself by
•aying it is that which is extended, figured, coloured, movea-
ble, hard, soft, tough or smooth, hot or cold — that is, I can
define it in no other way than by enumerating its sensible
qualities. It is not matter or body which 1 perceive by my
senses ; [so said ftfr. Hume !] but only extension, figure, co-
lour, and certain other qualities, which the constitution of my
nature [rather an ambiguous expression"! leads me to refer to
something that is extended, figured and coloured. The case
is precisely the same with respect lo mind. We are not im-
mediately ronsrioun of its existence; but we are conscious
of sensation, thought and volition ; operations which imply
the existence of something whi'^h feels, thinks, and wills.
Every man too, is impres^rd with an irresistible conviction
that all these sensations, thoi){/hti» and volitions, belong to one
and the same beii'g. to that being whrch he calls himself; a
being which he is led, ^y \\w constitnlionoj his nature, to con*
sider as something (n^tiiici hvn\ his body, and not liable
to be impaired by the lo«ii or mutilation of any of his organs.

* Havhipr never s»»*'ii Dr Reid's Essay on the Active Powers of
Miin I know not wh«'tl»pr this arenmeiit for the existence of mind
ought tn be credited to him, or to pi olV*sr*or» Stewart ; but this 1
consider of liule cons qu»Mice- nof remrdiiie the argument as cre-
dhRhlc to rtnv philosopher. 1 find U lo Stewart's Philosophy of
the Hamaa Miud, p. 10.

437

^^ From these considerations, it appears that we have the
<ame evidence of (he existf'nce of mind, that we have of the
•existence of matter, — nay, if ihere be any ditference betweca
the two cases, that we have stronger evidence for it, inas*
much as the one [the mind] is «ugge&ted to us by the subjecis
<>faur ionsciousness^ and the other merely by the objects of
our perceptions.'*

Well, reader, what do you think ? You must know that al"
most all men whose opinions concerning the subject are of
much weight, {I mean phys'ologists,) are decidedly of the
opinion that there is no such mind in existence as Stewart
epeaksof ; and yet of the two, it is rather more evident that
there is, than that there is any thing without our skulls, — we
are taught so by the constitution of our natures^

It appears very dear lo me, that when professor Stewart
wrote the foregonig passages, he did not think of every thuig-
that relates to the subject ; or else he was endeavoring — and
knowmgly too — to support a feeble cause by sophistry* He
is all wrong* — so completely so, 1 scarcely know where to
begm with him.

1 define matter, a combination of^ properties : — take from
any kind of matter, the propirrty of exien^ion and impenetra-
bility, and every othei properly that may be present, and no-
thing.would remain. And he thai assert^ that matter is some
tinknown thing distinct from the properties which it is said to
possess, asserts that, in support of which there is not the least
shadow of evidence, — we defy him to bring the least tittle*
But Stewart says that he rrin define matter in no other way,
than by saying it is that which is extended, figured, coloured,
moveable, hard, soft, &c. Well, then, let us take this defi-
nition of matter — let it he remembered that whatever is ex-
tended, figured, moveable. &c. is matter. Now Stewart ad-
mits that he can perceive extension, figure,, colour, hardness,
&c. by his senses, and yet says he cannot perceive matter !*
Is not this — I seriously ask — if not this a mere quibble ? Yea,
to be sure, the existence of a soul to be proved by a quibble*
Becau.^e the grammatical construction of our language Is such

* Ac.cqrdin^ to this doctrine^ the proposition, o ston^ is ma/fer^
and tna*i perceives a i>tone, is a false i>ne Either a man doifs not
perceive a stone, or else a stone is not matter— -a strange perveraioo
«f language ttii«, to say no iOort.

428

that we cannot spe^k of {he properties ofmatUr^ without
ftpeakingas though t'.r s3 properties belong to something he-
sides what they constitute; it is taken for granted tllat ihis
ftonnething has a real existence ; and by it the existence of a
soul is to be demonstrated even more plainly than the no:se
upon your face. We are told — what we flatly deny, and
challenge the asserter to prove — that this something, this
" essence of matter,'^ or '• matter itself," does really exist,
although we can neither see, hear, feel, taste, or smell it ; er-
go, a soul exists, ahhough we can neither see, hear, feel, taste
or smell it ! A fine way of reasoning this, for those who cry
out against hypotheses and begging questions, i might as
well say, giants exist, although no man ever saw or felt a
giant ; therefore Tom Thumbs exist.

Let us examine the professor's reasoning, hit by bit. — " We
are not," says he, ** immediately consciotis of the existence
of mind, but we are conscious of the existence of something
which feels, thinks, and wills." Granted. " Every man
too, is impressed with att irresistible conviction that all these
sensations, thoughts, and volitions, belong to one and the same
heing." Granted. "To a being which he calls himself."
Granted, " A being which he is led, by the constitution of
his nature, to consider as something distinct from his body."
False. *^ And not liable to be impaired by the loss or muti-
lation of any of hh organs." False.

Stewart may speak for himself, and I will speak for myself.
For my own part. Tarn not led by the constitution of my na-
ture, (o consider that being which I call myself as something
distinct from my bodv ; and I have a " shrewd suspicion" that
my readers will say the -^ame for themsrives. If so, it will
appear that the constitution of Stewart'^s nature is rather an
odd one.

As to myself beinsj impaired by the loss or mutilation of
any of my organs," 1 grant that the loss of my toes or my
ears would not destroy nay per-^onal identity, or my belief
that I anv the same man that did a certain deed ten years
ago ; but I have a very shrewd suspicion that that part of me
which thinks, that part in which my imoard identity is to be
found, would be very much impaired if ray brain should be
crushed.

Before I proceed any farther, it is best to show what Stew-
art meaus by the word soul or the word miud, (as all philoso-

429

ph^rs^sofar as I know, mean the same thing by either word^)
fbfrft sometimes happens that when a reasoner finds that he
. * ' cannot go forward, he attempts to back out, by alteriog the
meaning of a word. Stewart means by the woid mind or

• ^ soul, an immaterial thinking thing which exists independent
. ^ oClhe body, though in (he body while it is alive ; and which

may fly away and think independent of the body, of course

after the body is dead. He does not say explicitly that it is

^ extended or unextended — '^ whether it be seated in the brain,

or spread over the body by diffusion ;'' but as immateria lists

• generally admit that the mind is unextended, and located in
• the brain, and as Stewart does not advance a different opin-
ion, we may fairly conclude that he considered the mind as
unextended and seated in the brain.*

/* • 'Should a man say that, whatever thinks is mind — why, in
•^••« this'way. he could show that mind exists ; and in this way he

• *ntight make out that every name has its thing. He may
^y say that the word giant is not a nnfme without a thing, but that
Ji • g^i^^s exist. I may dispute him, and after much disputation,
;• *• he may end the controversy by saying he means by giant, a
4 man about six feet in height, who weighs about 160 pounds.

.V When by argument, I compel my antagonist to use a word in
•- a different sense from what he did at the commencement, I
t consider him as vanquished.-^The mind is a thinking thing
I which has a being independent of the body, or there is no

\ , mind. To say that the mind is the brain or the sensorium, or
the sensorial tendencies, or the conscient actions of the ner-
vous, system, is to force on us an old word which has been us-
^ e^ as the name of a thing which does not exist, and to beg of
urtO admit that it means something, ^hen there is nothing
for it to be the name of, — nothing but what has got other and
more appropriate names.

Stewart says, that of the two, we have stronger evidence of
the existence of mind, than of the existence of matter, inas-
mlichas the former is sui^ested to us by the subjects of our

• * consciousness^ and the latter merel) by the o&jej/^ q/'otirper-
» • • « — ~**~ '

* Id Stewart's Philosophy of the Hnman Mind, p. 47, he makes

• the following remark— *' This phrase of * the f oul bnns[ present

to the images, of external objects,' has been used by many philoso.

phers, since the time of Des Cartes ; evidently from a desire to

-^ aynid the absurdity of supposing images of extension and figure

^gfii exist in an tmcxtetided mind. '^
. • . .

t •>*

•4

•»*

^^ ♦ .

430

s

•
eepUem* This is as much at^ to say, the existence of mind if
iuggeaced to us by (he subjects of onr consciousii^'ss ; wh^.re* *;
as wje have do evidence of the existence of a horse, for in-
stance, but merely (hat we see, feel, and often hear, a horse !

I will not at present take into consideration the expression. ••
'* subjects of our consciousness 4^^ but remark that Stewart
appears to have considered consciousness as absolute proof O; *
the existence of mind ; that is, of an immaterial thinking thing
which exists independent of the body. But what is con-
sciousness ? A conscient action of the two extremities oi a *
nerve, is conscioustiess ; or a conscient action of the senso-
rium, alone, is consciousness — to sense, to perceive, or to ^
think, is to be conscious: there is no consciousness, when a
man neither sees, hears, feels, tastes, smells, nor thinks. J^pW
in the name of truth, I most humbly>a.«k if the simple act of •
thinking any thought, seeing any object, feeling any body, &c, ; .^
does inform us what thinks ? — inform us to such a degree*of *.
certainty, that we can no more doubt, that an immaterial, in- ^ «
dependent mind thinkst than we can doubt the existence of a
horse when we see and feel a hnise!

By knowing (he effects of diseases and injuries of the brain,
and of divers expenments on the nervous system — -in short, */*
by what knowledge I have of the animal economy, and of *.
things in general, 1 am convinced that the brain ttiinks; ^
but by the simple act of (hinking any thought, or experien- '
cJng any sensation, I cannoi for my life, determine the precise
part of it which thinks. My consciousness does not inform
me whether it be OiemediUia oblongata^ the tkalami nervorum
cpttcortim^ the pineal gland, or some other particular part.
But my reason tells me — that is, by thinking over certain *
harmonizing facts relative to the subject, I believe — that '
thinking goes on somewhere in the lower and central part of
the brain.

Had Stewart defined mind — whatever it be that thinks, oris
consciom. iUeu consciousness would have been the same evi*
dence of the existence of mind, that he has supposed it to be* •
But as Stewart ai.d other immaterialists consider the mind as,
some immaterial thinking thing, distinct from the body, con*
acioiisness or thinking is not the least whit of evidence ofibc'
^xisttence of any such mind, and of course, no evidence of the
^xi>*tence of any mind.

As to the existence of mind being suggested to us by (be

481

subjects ofo^if eonscumsnesB, I woald inquire what ere the
svbjects of our consciousness? When a man thinki*, what, I
ask, 18 the subject of his consciousness ? Is it the sensoriumor
the man who is conscious ; or is it the action of the sensoriund
» which constitutes the consciousness ; or is it the external 06*
jfiCt which first excited this action ?

Excepting; these three things, i defy anj man to show that
it can be anything at all. -Now we cannot suppose that
.Stewart believed that a man^s brain is the subject of his con-
sciousness for his brain is one subject, but Stewart speaks of
subjects. ^ If we say that the conscient action of the brain is
the subject of the man's consciousness, then the same thing
pot only constitutes consciousness, but is the subject of cod*
sciousness. Finally, if there be any meaning in the expres-
sion ^^ subjects of our consciousness," these subjects must l>e
• things which we think of, or think about, and these are the
precise things that are the ^' objects of our perceptions," in
almost all cases. And I must confess that a stone, or any
thing else which I think about^ js^oes as far in convincing me
that I have a soul or mind, as tbe simple act of thinki- g.

In this place i may notice an anecdote wblch I otice saw
in the Boston Recorder — -jan anecdote in which there is no-
thing solid but something specious — though i have reason to
think that some short-sighted persofis thought it contained an
irrefragable repartee. I can only relate it as I can remember
it. It was in substance as follows :—

A phvsician asked a methodist preacher if he ever saw a

soul ? Nu. Did you ever hear a boul f No. Did you ever

^ taste a soul ? No. Did you ever smell a soul ? No. Did

you ever feel a soul ? Yes. Well, says the physician, there

are four evidences against otie that there is no soul. Said

the preacher in his turn. Did you ever see a pain ? No. Did

you ever hear a pain ? No. Did you ever, taste a pain ? No.

Dfd you ever smell a puin ? No. Did you ever feel a pain ?

Yes. Well, says the preacher there are four evidences

' against one that there is no pain, yet you know there is pain^

. and 1 know (here is a soul.

We here see that the preacher commits the same blunder
that Stewart has dour ; he not only takes consciousness as
proof that consciousness exists — a thing that no man will de-
ny, but he m<)kes const iouf^ness a proof that a soul exists,
]fhea it is not the least whit of evidence of any such thing*

43^

We do not tell (he preacher that he did not^know that some-*
thing feels, (hinkf. &c. ; but that he did not know whether
this something be a material organ or an immaterial thing of
pirhicb no man can ever have any idea*

'000-

CHAPTER XXXV.

professor iMwrence^s Lecture on the Functions of the Bram

As the opinions of Professor Lawrence concerning the con-
stitutiod of man, are — with the exception of other physiolo-
gisfts — of more weight than tbe opinions of alt the world be-
sides ; we think his lecture on the functions of the brain can*
not fail of being highly interesting to, most of our readers*
Therefore wc shall give it in hit own words, without additioD
or subfitraction : — it stands in no need of comment*

^' There would be little inducement to compare together
the various animal structures, to follow any apparatus thro'
the whole animal series, unless the structure were a measure
and criterion of the function. Just in the same proportion
as organization is reduced, life is reduced ; exactly as the
organic parts are diminished in number and simplified, the
vital plienomena become fewer and more simple : and each
function ends, when the respective organ ceases. This is
true throughout zoology; there is no exception in behalf of
any vital manifestations.

^^ The same kind of facts, the same reasoning, the same sort
of evidence altogether, which show digestion to be the func-
tion of Ihe alimentary canal, the motion of the muscles, and
various secretions of their respective glands, |irove that sen-
sation, perception, memory, judgment, reasoning, thought —
in a word, all the manifestations called mental or intellectual,
•«— are the animal functions of their appropriate organic appa-
ratus, the central organ of the nervous system. No difficulty
nor obscurity belongs to the latter case, which does not equal-
ly affect hII the former instances : no kind of evidence con-
nects the living processes witii the material instruments in the

483

one which does not apply just as clearly and forcibly to the
other.

^^ Shall I be told that thought is inconsistent with matter;
that we cannot conceive how medullary substance can per-
ceive, remember, judge, reason ? I acknowledge that we are
entirely ignorant how the parts of the bram accomplish these
purposes*-— as we are hoW the liver secretes bile, how the mus*
cles contract, or how any other living purpose is effected ;— •
as we are how heavy bodies are attracted to the earth, how
iron is^ drawn to the magnet, or how two salts decompose
each other. Experience is« in all these cases, our sole, if not
sufficient instructresd : and the constant conjunction of phe-
nomena, as exhibited in her lessons- is the sole ground for af-
firming a necessary connexion between them, if we go be*
yond this, and come to inquire the manner how, the mecha-
nism by which these things are effected, we shall find every
thing around us .equally mysterious, equ»Hy incomprehensi-
ble — from the stone which falU to the earth, to the comet
traversing the heavens. — from the thread attracted by amber
or sealing wax« to the revolutions of planets in their orbits, —
from the formation of a maggot in putrid flesh, or a mite in
cheese, to the production of a Newton or a Franklin.

'^ In opposition to these views, it has been contended that
thought is not an act of the br^in, but of an immaterial sub-
stance, residing in or connected with it. This large and cu-
rious structure, which, in the human subject, receives one
fifth of all the blood sent out from the heart, which is so pe-
culiarly and delicately organized, nicely enveloped in succes-
sive membranes, and securely lodged in a solid bony esse, is
left almost without an office, being barely allowed to be ca-
pable of sensation. It has, indeed, the easiest lot in the ani-
mal economy : it is better fed, clothed and lodged than any
other part, and has less to do. But its office— only one re-
move above a sinecure— is not a very honorable one : it is a
kind of porter, entrusted to open the door, and introduce
new comers to the master of the house, who takes on himself
the entire chaise of receiving, entertaining, and employing
them.

^' Let us survey the natural history of the hnman mind, —
its rise, progress, various fate:«, and decay ; and then judge
whether these accord best with the hypothesis of an immate-
rial agent, or with the plain dictates of common sense, and

&5

454

iheaDnlogy of eveir other organ and function throaghoat the
Iboundless extent of living beings.

^' You must bring to this physiological question a sincere
ant) earnest love of truth ; dismissing from yourminds all the
prejudices and alarms which have been so industriously cod-
netted with it. If you enter on the inquiry in the spirit of
the bigot and partisan, sufftmig a cloud of fears and hopes,
desires and aversion, to hang around your understandings, \ou
will never discern objects clearly ; their colours, shapes, di-
mensions, will be conlused. distorted, and obscured by the in-
tellectual mist. Our business is, to inquire what is true ;
not what is the finest theory ; not what will supply the best
topics of pretty romposition and eloquent declamation, ad*
dressed to the prejudices, the passions, and the ignorance of
our hearers. We need not fj5ir the result of investigation*
IVuth is like a native rustic beauty ; most lovely when una*
domed, and seen in the open light of day. Your 6ne hypoth-
eses and specious theories are like the unfortunate females
who supply the want or loss of native charms, and repair the
breaches of age or disease, by paint, finery, and decorations ;
which can only be exhibited in the glaring ligl'ts, the artifi-
cial atmosphere, and the unnatural scenery of the theatre or
saloon. Whenever it is thoroughly discussed, truth will not
fail to come like tried gold from the fire. Like Ajax, it re-
quires nothing but day-light and fair play.

^*' Reason and free inquiry are the only eflfectual antidotes
of en or. Give them full scope, and they will uphold the
truth, by bringing false opinions, and all the spurious ofispring
of ignorance, prejudice, and self interest, before the severe
tribunal, and subjecting them to the test oC<lose investiga*
tion. Error alone needs artificial support : truth can stand
by itsielf.

^^ Sir Everard Home, with the assistance of Mr. Bauer and
his microscope, has shovtn us a man eight da}s old from the
time of conception, — about as broad, and a little longer than
a pin's head. He satisfied himself ihat the brain of this ho*
munculus was discernible. Could the immaterial mind have
been connected with it at this time ? or was the tenement
too small even for so etherial a lodger ? At the full period of
utero-gestation it is still difiicult to trace any vestige of mind ;
and the believen: in its separate existepfCe have left us quite
in the dark on the precise tmie at which the spiritual guest

439

arrives in his corporeal dwelling, the interesting and impor-
tant moment of amalgamation or combination ol the earthly
dust and the ethertal essence* The Roman Catholic church
has cut the knot, which no one el^e could untie ; and has de-
cided that the little mortal, on its passage into this world of
trouble, has a soul to be saved ; it accordingly directs and
authorizes midwives, in cases of difficult labor, where the
death of the infant is apprehended, to baptise it by means of
a syringe introduced into the vagina, and thus to save it from
perdition ! ! !

^^ The? whose scruples are not quite set at rest by the above
mentioned decision of the church, nor by being told that the
mind has not yet taken up its quarters in the brain, endeavor
to account for the entire absence of mental phenomena at the
time of birth, by the senses and brain not having been yet
called into action by the impressions of external objects.

^^ These organs begin to be ej^ercised as soon as the child
is born : and a faint glimmering of mind is dimly (>erceived
in the course of the first months of existence : but it is as
weak and infantile as the body.

*^ As the senses acquire their powers, and the cerebral jel-
ly becomes firmer, the mind gradually strengthens ; slowly
advances, with the body, through childhood to puberty*; and
becomes adult when the developement of the frame is com-
plete ; it is, moreover, male or female, according to the sex
of the body. In the perfect period of organization, the mind
is seen in the plemtude of its powers ; but this state of full
vigor is shurt in duration, both for the intellect and the cor-
poreal fabric.' Tlie wear and tear of the latter is evidenced
in its mental movements: with the decline of organization
the mind decays ; it becomes decrepit with the body ; and
both are at the same time extinguished by death.

" What do we infer from this succession of phenomena ?
the existence and action of a principle entirely distinct from
body ? or a close analogy to the history of all other organs
and functions ?

*^ The number and kind of the intellectual phenomena ie
different animals correspond closely to the degree of devel-
opement of the brain* The mind of the Negro and Hotten-
tot, of the Calmuck and the Carib, is inferior to that of the
Euiopean ; and their organization is also less perfect. The
large cranium and high forehead of the oraog-utang lift him

4M

above his brother monkeys ; but (he, devetopement of hia
cerebral hemispheres and his mental manifestations are both
equally below those of the Negro. The gradation of oi^au-
ization and of mind passes through the monkey, dog, elephant,
horse, to other quadrupeds ; thence to birds, reptiles, and
fishes ; and so on to the lowest links of the animal chain.

^* In ascending these steps of one ladder, following in regu-
lar succession at equal intervals, where shall we &nd the
boundary of unassisted organization ? Where place the begin-
ning of the immaterial adjunct? In thxt view which assimi-
lates the functions of the brain to those of other organic parts,
this case has no difficulty. As the structure of the brain is
more exquisite, perfect, and complex, its functions ought to
be proportionally so. It is no slight proof of the doctrine
DOW enforced, that the fact is actually thus : that the mental
powers of brutes, so far as we can see, are proportional to
their organization.

*^ We cannot deny to animals all participation in rational
endowments, without shutting our eyes to the most obvious
facts ; to indications of reasoning which the unprejudiced ob-
servation of mankind has not failed to recognise and appre-
ciate. Without adverting to the well known instances of
comparison, judgment, and sagacity in the elephant, the dog,
and mauy^ther animals, let us read the character drawn by
Humboldt of the South American mules : * When the mulea
.feel themselves in danger, they stop, turning their heads to
the right and to tlie left. Tjie motion of their ears seems to
indicate that they reflect on the decision they ought to take*
Their resolution is slow, but always just if it be free ; that it
to say, if it be not crossed or hastened by the imprudence of
the traveller, it is on the frightful roads of the Andes, dur-
ing long journie^ of six or seven months, across mountains
furrowed by torrents, that the intelligence of horses and beasts
of burthen displays itself in an astonishing manner. Thus
the mountaineers are heard to say, I will not give you the
mule whose step is the easiest, but him who reasons the best.'
If the i-ntellectual phenomena of man require an immatertal
principle superadded to the brain, we must equally concede
It to those more rational animals which exhibit manifestations
difiering from some of the human only in decree. If we grant
it to these we cannot refuse it to the next in order, and ao od
in Bucceasioo to the whole series ; to the oyster, the sea aae-

437

mone, the polype, the microscopic animalcules. Is any one
prepared to admit (he existence of iminateriat principles in all
these cases? If not he must equally reject it in man.

*^ it is admitted that an ideot with a mal-formed brain, has
no mind : that the sagacious dog, and half-reasonable ele*
phant do not require any thing to be superadded to their brain :
it is allowed that a dog or elephant excel*: inferior animals,
in consequence of possessing a more peifect cerebral struc-
ture ; it is strongly suspected that a Newton or a Shakspeare
excels other mortals only by a more ample developement
of the anterior cerebral lobes; by having an extra inch of
brain in the right place ; yet the immatermh^ts will not con*
cede the obvious corollary of all these admissions, viz, that
the mind of man is merely that more perfect exhibrtion of
inental phenomena which the more complete developement
of the brain would lead as (o expect ; ano still perplex us with
the gratuitous difficulty of their immateiial hypothesis.-*
Thought (it is positively and dogmatically asserted) cannot
be an act of matter. Yet no feeling, no thought, no intellect'
tual operation, ha^ ever been seen except in conjunction with
a brain ; and liviug matter is acknowledged by rnoi»t persons
to be capable of whit makes the nearest possible approach to
thinking. The strongest advocate for immaterialism seeks
no further than the body for his explanation of all the vital
processes of muscular contraction, nutrition, secretion, &c.,
operations quite as different from any atfertion ofinoruadic
substance, as reasoning or thought: he will even allow the
brain to be capable of sensation.

^' Who knows the capabilities of matter so perfectly, as to
be able to say, that it can see, hear, smell, taste, and feet, but
cannot possibly reflect, imagine, judge ? Who has appreciate
ed them so exactly, as to be able to decide' that it can exe*
cute the mental functiohs of an elephant, a dog, or an ourang*
outang, but cannot perform those of a Negro or a Hottentot?
To say that a thing of mereU negative properties, that is, aa
immaterial substance, which is netthei evidenced by any dt*
rect testimony, nor by any indirect proof from its etTects,
does exist and can think, is quite consistent in those who de^
ny thought tQ animal structures, where we see it going on
every day !

** If the mental process* « be not the funtions of the brain,
what u Its office ? lu animak which poBsess only a auiall pmi

,438

of (be haman cerebral structure, sensation exists, and in naanj
cases is more acute than in man : what employment shall we
find for all that man possesses over and above this portioo —
for the large and prodigiously developed human hemispheres f
Are we to believe that these serve only to round the figure of
the organ, or to fill the cranium ?

^^ It IS necessary for you to form clear opinions on this sub-
ject, as it has immediate reference to an important brancb of
pathology. They who consider the mental operations as arts
of an immaterial being, and thus disconnect the sound state
of the mind from organization, act very consistently in dis*
joining insanity also from the corporeal structure, and in re-
presenting it as a disease not of the brain, but of the mind.
Thus we come to disease of an immaterial being ! for which,
suitably enough, moral treatment has been recommended.

^^ I firmly believe, on the contrary, that the various forms
of insanity — that all the affections comprehended under the
general terms of mental derangement — are only evidences of
cerebral affections, disordered manifestations of those organs
whose healthy action produces the phenomena called mea-
tal ; in short, symptoms of diseased brain.

*' These symptoms have the same relation to the brain, as
vomiting, indigestion, heart burn, to the stomach; cough,
asthma, to the lungs ; or any other deranged functions to their
correspondent organs.

^' If the biliary secretion be increased, diminished, sus-
pended, or altered, we have no hesitation in referring to chan-
ges in the condition of the liver, as the immediate cause of
these phenomena. We explain the state of respiration, whe-
ther slow, hurried, impeded by cough, bpasm, &c. by the va-
rious conditions of the lungs and other parts concerned. in
breathing. These explanations are deemed perfectly satis-
factory.

'^ What should we think of a person who told us that the
organs have nothing to do with the business ; that cholera,
jaundice, hepatitis, are diseases of an immaterial hepatic be-
ing; that asthma, cough, consumption, are affections of a sub-
tile pulmonary matter ; or that in both cases the disorder
IS not in bodily organs, but in a vital principle? If such a
statement would be. deemed too absurd for any serious com-
ment in the derangement of the liver, lungs, and other oiigan-
ic partsi how can it be received in the brain ?

439

*^ The very persons who use this lan^roage of diseases of
the mind, speak and reason correctly respecting the other af-
fections of the brain. When it is compressed by a piece of
bone, or eflused blood or serum, and when ail intellectual
phenomena are more or le^s completely suspended, they do
not say that the mind is squeezed, that the immaterial prio*
ciple suffers pressure* For the ravings of delirium and phren*
zy, the excitation and subsequent stupor of intoxication, they
find an adequate explanation in the state of the ceiebral cir-
culation, without fancying that (he mind is delirioosy mad, or
drunk.

'^ In these cases the seat of the disease, the cause of the
symptoms, is too obvious to escape notice* In nnany forms
of insanity, (he affection of the cerebral organization is less
strongly marked, slower in its progress, but generally very re*
cognizable, and abundantiv sufficient to explain the diseased
inaoifestation, — to afford a material organic cause for the
phenomena — for the augmented or diminished energy, or the
altered nature of the various feelings and intellectual facul-
ties.

^^ I have examined after death the heads of many insane
persons, and have hardly seen a single brain which did not
exhibit obvious marks of disease ; in recent cases, loaded ves*
sels, iiicreased serous secretions: in all instances of longer
duration, unequivocal signs of present or jiast increased ac-
tion : blood vessels apparently more numerous, membranes
thickened and opaque, depositions of coagulable lymph form>-
ing adhesions or adventitious membranes, watery effusions,
even abscesses : add to this, the insane often become para*
lytic, or are suddenly cut off by apoplexy.

^^ Sometimes, indeed, the mental phenomena are disturbed
without any visible deviation from the healthy structure of
the brain : as digestion or biliary secretion may be impaired
or altered without any recognizable change of structure in
the stomach or liver. The brain, like other parts of this
complicated machine, may be diseased sj^pathetically ; and
we see it recover.

^* Thus we find the brain, like other parts, subject to what
is called functional disorder; but, although we cannot actu-
ally demonstrate the tact, we no more doubt that the material
cause of the symptoms or external signs of disease is in this
organ, than we do that impaired biliary secreliou has ita

44G

source in the liver, or faulty digestion in the stotnach. The
brain does not oAen rome under (he inspection of the anato-
mist, in such cases of functional disorder; and I am convin-
ced, from my own experience, that very few heads of perFons
d}ing deranged will be examined after death, without show*
ing diseased structure, or evident signs of increased vascular
activity.

'' The effect of medical treatment completely corroborates
these views. Indeed, they who talk of and believe in diseas*
esof themind« are too wise to put their trust in mental reme-
dies. Arguments, syllogisms, discourses, sermons, have nev-
er yet restored aiiy patient ; the moral pharmacopoeig is
quite inefficient ; and no real benefit can be conferred with-
out vigorous medical treatment, which is as etBcaciousas ia
the diseases of any other organ.

*^ In thus drawing your attention to the physiology of the
brain, I have been influenced not merely by the intrinsic in-
terests and importance of the subject, but b^ a wii^h to exem-
plify the aid which human and comparative anatomy and
physiology are capable of atfording each other, and to show
how the d-'ita furnished by both tend to illustrate pathology.
I have purposely avoided noticing those considerations of the
tendency of certain physiological doctrines, winch have some-
times been industriously mixed up with these disquisitions.
In defence of a w^ak cause, and in failure of direct arguments,
appeals to the passions and prejudices have been indulged ;
attempts have been made to fix public odium on the support-
ers of this or that opinion ; and direct charges of bad motives
and injurious consequences have been reinforced by all the
arts of mis^ep^e^entotion, insinuation, and inuendo.

^^ To discover truth, and to represent it in the dearest and
most intelligent manner, seem to me the only proper objects
of physiological, or indt*ed of any other inquiries. Fret dis-
cussion is the surest way, not only to disclose and strengthen
what is true, but to detect and expose what is fallacious. Let
us not then pay so l^d a compliment to truth, as to use in its
defence foul blows and unlawful weapons. Its adversaries, if
it has any, will be despatched soon enough without the aid of
the stiletto and the bowl.

The argument against the expediency of divulging an opin-
ion, although it ma) be true, from the possibility of its being
perverted, has been so much hackneyed, so often employed

441

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Some of the Difficulties that attend the Hypothesis of Soul,
but do not attend the Doctrine of Materialism.

One of the greatest absurdities ever admitted by men, is
the existence of an unextended being. It is astonishing that
any man of common sense, should give bis assent to such
a whim. We should think that before any man would ad-
mit the existence of an unextended being, he would disregard
all facts, — abandon all reasoning, and boldly assert that the
soul is extended. Yet it appears that philosophers have
not done this ; but h&ve regarded the difficulties that attend
the idea of the soul being extended, and freely admitted that
it has neither parts nor extension. But passipg by this diffi-
culty, we would ask where the soul comes from ? — Oh, from
the celestial regions, to be sure. Well, then, is it a part of
the immaterial Deity himself — who by the by we must sup-
pose to be unextended and destitute of parts ; for if the want
of the property of extension be essential to the immateriality
of one being, it must be to another — or is it something made
by the Deity ? And if the latter, were all souls made at the
time the Deity created' a// things, or are souls made as there
is a demand for them ? — which demand is sometimes greater,
and sometimes less, as we may welj suppose, — depending al-
together on the accidents that befall certain individuals ! But
if all souls were made at the time the Deity created all things,
what are they about before* they enter human bodies ? It is
probable that they can think before they enter the body ; if
they cannot, what reason have we to suppose that they caa
after they fly away from it ? If our souls did think before they
entered our bodies, they cannot remember that they did, now
they are in our bodies ; and if our souls cannot remember id
the body what they thought out of it, why should we suppose
that after they get out of it, they can remember what they
thought while in it ? And if, after the soul gets out of the b6-
dy, it cannot remember what it thought while in the body,
why should it be rewarded or punished for what it made the
body do ? It would be like punishing Sam for the deeds of
Thomas ; or like punishing a man for deeds which he can
have no idea of ever doing. Again, how can hell-fire, or any
other agent, operate upon an unextended thing so as to re-
ward it or punish it? Do you tell me that there is no rewj^rti-

56

• 442

ing OP punishing until after the body is reorganized ? Why^
then, all tbis fuss and contention with religionists about the
existence of souls, since our future happiness, after all, de-
pends on the reor;^anization of the body ?

Are all souls originally alike ? if you sayao, then you give
organization nearly as much credit as the materialist contends
for ; since it is difference of organization that makes all the
difference between a Newton and an idiot, er a Newton
and a flea.* If not alike, we cannot suppose it is a matter
of indifference what soul enters this or that infantas brain ;
and the question arises : what sorts out and directs the pro-
per souls to the right brains, — the male sojuls to the male
brains, and the female souls to the female brains ; the Hot-
tentot souls to thef Hottentot brains ; and the European souls
to the European brains ? Do you say that God directs them ?
Pray, what are your notions of the relation that subsists be-
tween the Creator and the events of the universe ? Did not
God so organize the universe that all natural events take
place by virtue of this organization — though God is the first
cause of all things, is he the immediate cause of any nutural
event ? dors the fire snap, does water run down hill, docs the
brain think, because the Deity is continually exercising his
influence to produce these events ? — is God, as it were, a
slave to his own creation ? or, like a skilful artist, did he not
so' organize this wonderful machine^ the universe, that it con*
tinues in harmonious operation without his immediate agen-
cy ; and will thus continue, until it be stopped by the same
power that created it? Any other supposition bnt this last,
Would be absurd and degrading. Now the generation and
growth of the material body, are natural events — Ihcy are
not miracles — we can trace their connexion with other natu-

mam^t» LI 111 I ■ — T '^ II i» I ■_ I II I r ■ 1 I ■ ■ ■ ■■ a , I I ■ I MW^M ■ m^ MM ■ ■ r — n

* Abernethy, in bis very unsuccessful crusade against his brother
professor a materialist, not only admits that the brain is as much
an organ of thought, as the liver and stomach are organs for the se-
cretion of bile and gastric juice, but says : — ^' It seems to me more
Reasonable' to suppose that whatever is perceptive [meaning his
percipient principle^ which is but another name for soul,] may be
variously affectpd by rae»ns of vital actions transmitted through a
diversity of organization, than to suppose that such variety depends
upon original difieiences in the nature of the percipient principle/^
See his Reflections on G^ll and Spurzlieim's System of Physiogno-
my and Phrenology, p 76, to be found in the second volume of his
Surgical and Physiological works.

443

Tal evcute. But beUvecn the generation of a homunculus,
and the starting of a soul from the celestial regions, we can
trace no connexion. — The soul is started and directed by Uie*
immediate agency of the Deity, and of course, thi^^ event is a
iniracle.^ And a perfect and entire man, according to the im-
material hypothesis, is not altogether a natural production ;
but he is brought into being, partly by natural operations,
and partly by miracle !

After the soul is snugly nested in the brain, what does it
do? Answer, it perceives, thinks, judj;es, &c. Now beasts,
birds, fish, and .in«ects, perceive, and almost ail of them evi-
dently think ; and to think is essentially the same, as we
have shown, as to juili^c, reason, &c. — ^judging is but a mode
of thinking ; and animuls judge dififerently, because they pos*
sess different sensorial tendencies. Now what will you do
with the souls of beasts, iish, and insects ? If the soul be ne*
cessarily, and in its very nature immortal, then all souls must
continue to live, (if any body can tell what the life of a soul
consists in,) whether in the body or out. But if the soul be
not naturally immortal — and we have not even scripture tes-
timony that it IS — what reason has it for flattering itself that
it will exist and be conscious after the body is dead, any more
than the body has for believing that it will exist in a future
state — 'Which body has the assurance of scripture, at least^
that it will be reorganized.

How does the soul seated in the brain, perceive objects ex-
terior to the body, and in many instances quite distant from
it ? You have already seen that some supposed that the soul
quits the body, and flies to the object ; and others, that some
image, species, or phantasm, flies from the object and enters
the brain, to be present to the soul : which last supposition
IS the branch Chat gave rise to the seeptical philosophy of
Berkley and Hume. But if it should be said that when a
man sees, (to say nothing of other perceptions,) rays of light
excite an action in his optic nerves and brain, and this action
of the brain excites an action or change (no matter which
word you use,) of the unextended soul — yes, an action of an
untxtended soul !- and that this action constitutes the seeing ;
I would ask why we should not say that the actions of the
optic nerves and brain constitute the seeing, and not suppose
the existence of an inconceivable something of which there
is no evidencet — It is just as conceivable that an action of an

444

organ constitutes a seDsation or a IhougM, as that an actioo
of something el reconstitutes a thought.
' Again, how does a thing which possesses no parts, see, hear,
and think, at the same time ? Different parts of an extended
thing, may exist in dilferent states, or take on different ac«
tions, at the same time ; but if a certain state or action of an
unextended thing be essential to the existence of a certain
'sensation, and another state or action, to the existence of a
certain other sensation ; then it is absolutely impossible for
this unextended thing to be at one time in such state as to
constitute both these sensations : but we can see, hear, feci,
and even think, at the same time. — Remember what is said
in the chapter on sensation and perception.

Furthermore, if an unextended soul, seated in the hdad, be
that which is conscious^ how does consciousness or feeling —
which is generally a much higher degree of consciousness
than.mere thinking — exist in the foot, or any other member;
and this too even while thinking is going on in the head ? No-
thing can be conscious where it is not, any more than when it
is not; now we know that we often experience feelings in
different parts of our bodies at times when the soul cannot be
in sach parts ; for thinking is at the time going on in our heads ;
and not only this, but an unextended thing cannot be in two
different parts of our bodies — to Hay nothing of the head — at
the same time. Should any one have the hardihood to as-
sert that the soul extends throughout all nervous lamifications
that take on conscient actions, or m other words, possess sen-
sibility; I would ju9t ask him to imagine what a queer shaped
thing it is, and how it would look, if by some chemical agent
the nervous system should be dissolved, and the soul at the
same time be endowed with the power of reflecting light*
Methinks it would look somewhat like a srf^rled skein of
yam, or a horse's tail that needed combing. I would ask,
too, what becomes of that part of the soul which is cut off
when a man has a leg amputated ! and what makes the soul
grow, so as to keep pace with the growth and extension of
nervous svstem ?

The immHiterialists have not informed us at what period
the soul enters the brain; but those of modern times main-
tain that when it does enter, it is as destitute of ideas ^s an
unwritten sheet of paper is of words ; (and for my own part I
cannot conceive how an unextended thing can ever contain
or possess ideas, or any thing that can give rise to ideas ;) but

445

presently the brain begins to act upon it — now it is that it
begins to perceive, to have ideas, and to think ; and now it is
that they regard the boul as a fiddle, and the brain as the tid-
dler that plays upon it — the perceptions, thoughts, &c*, con-
stiluting the niusic. But after a time the child becomes a
man, and the man becomes insane ; the physician now pro-
ceeds to bleed, blister, physic, and sahvate, just as he does in
other bodily diseases ; and finally cures the insanity ; or, the
man dying, an obvious disease of his bram is discovered. The

' immaterialist now begins to reason. The soul, thinks he, is
an immaterial, indivisible, immortal thing; now can we sup-

« pose that such a thing is ever sick ? or can we suppose that a
sick soul, if there ever were such a thing, is to be cured by
calomel, jalap, and blistering plasters? No, this would be ab-
surd — an immortal soul is never sick — the truth is, the brain
is the instrument by which the soul operates; and when the
instrument is out of order, the 'best musician in the. world
cannot play upon it so as to make harmonious music. Thus
we see that at one time the immaterialists tell us that the
brain plays (jpon the soul, at another, that the soul plays up-
on the brain — first one is the fiddle and then the other, just as
the d.fBculties attending the immaterial hypothesis seem to
require!*

* Dr. Johi> Armstrong, in hib work on tVver, says, page 360,
^36*1, '< It might be shown by familiar facts, that the brain is the
principal organ through which the operations of the mind are per-
formed ; and it does not, as many h.ive supposed^ necessarily in-
volve the doctrine of materialism lo affirm, that certain disorders of
that organ are capable of disturbing those operations. If the most
skillful musician in the world were placed before an unstrung and
broken instrument he could not produce the harmony which he was
accustomed lo when the instrument was perfect ; nay, on the con-
trary, the sound would be discordant; and yet it would be mani-
festly most illogical to conclude, from such an effect, that the pow-
ers of the musician were impaired, since they merely appear to he
so from the imperfection of the instrument. Now. what the instru-
ment is to th« musician, the brain may be to the mind, for aught
we know to the contrary : and to pursue the figure, as the musi-
cian has an existence distinct from the instrument, so the mind may
have an existence distinct from that of the brain ; for in truth we
have no proof whatever, of mind being a property depenclent
upon any arrangement of matter." It evideni/y never came into
Armstrong's head that there is no such thing as mind. Had he
said^ we have no proof that a roan's ability to thick, is dependent

446

CONCLUtMON.

Now, reader? as. we have got through with the argumentative part
of this work, if y<^u please, we'll have a little chitchat together,
and I will then leave you to your own cogitations. I presume ycm
have been interested in perusing this work, or you would not have
arrived to this place. I cannot believe you have used me so un-
fairly as to tumble over the leaves^ reading a little here and a litile
there, with no other view than to find something to refute or cod-
tlemn ; if you have, fire away ! but be careful that you do not
« shoot at a shadow — many a time has an author been combatted,
because he was not attentively read and rightly understood. But
if you are a lover of truth, (as all profess to be,) and have t>een in-
terested in perusing ttiis work, because you believed [ was doing
something to fur:her (because of it ; you will be pleased, I think,
to know a littia more about me, and how J came to be such an in-
fidel as I am. — Now then you shall have a little bit of my history.
As itiiespects th« ^' inner man," 1 am a sort of self-made creature,
not yet 29 years of age. I suppose my books would excite more
notice, were 1 some big professor, with a head of grey hairs upon
tny shoulders ; but as 1 have all along endeavored to tell you the
truth, boldly y i do not intend to alter i^iy hand now, for any peca-
niary consideration. At Templeton, this state, (Mass.) 1 was
born and bred a farmer. My parents are still living. They never
enjoyed any advaittages for acquiring knowledge, though I believe
they possess pretty well organized brains. They brought me up in
the ^' fear of^ the Lord," and, wilh much adoy taught me the West-
minster Catechism, for I was a confounded dull scholar uotil 14 vr
15 years of age After this period I made some proficiency in fig-
ures and the English grammar, considering my opportunities ; for
I worked like a good fellow on the farm, at least 9 months in the

on any arrangement or combination of matter, I could contradict
him fiatly, for we have just as much proof that it does, as we Ifave
that gold is yellow, heavy, and ductile. At page 362, he says,
*' Madness is^indeed an awful malady, and might at first sight con-
vey the impression, that mind itself is liable to the changes and
^ecay of our material structure, but it surely only shows the intl-
niate connexion it has with matter : Jor I have seen no case of this
disease in which (here were not previously the most disiinei evt-
dence. of some disorder in Ihe brain to which ike madness might be
' referred as a consequence,^^ 1 adduce this last quotation as evi-
dence, if further evidence be needed, that it is the brain that thinks.
As to Dr. Armstrong, comparing the brain to a fiddle or any
other musical instrument, we have no objections, but H is very
strange that he should not be aware, that it is played upon by the
impressions made upon our senses.

447
I

year, until 17 or 18 years of age. From Ihis age to Hiat of^f^
my health was such that I could not labor. During this time I
spent nearly three months in an academy, where I studied the
mathematics and the English language ; and I never studied any
ether language under the tuition ofan^ one, with the exception of
Dr. Charles Adams, of Keene, N. H. Being under h\8 care as a
patient for a few weeks, he spent a few hours, during this time, in
hearing my lessund in the Latin grammar. A short time before I
was 21,1 married. My father in law, .Mr Richard Stuart, ufWin-
ehendon, Mass. possessed Paine's Age of Reason, and spoke highly
of it ; but I cared not a fig fur it — did not read it : I supposed it a
bad book, and its author a very wicked man. Mr. Stuart, too, was,
and still is, a materialist in reality ; but in those days I knew not
what material'sm is — I remember asking him one day what he
supposed becomes of the soul when a person dies : he gave me no
answer but this : — What becomes of the blaze of a candle when v^
you blow it out ? Soon after 21 years of age, 1 began to study med-
icine, under very linpropitious circumstances, first with Dr. Charles
Wilder of Templeton ; then with Dr. Stephen Batcheller of Roy-
alston : and lastly with Dr. Amos Twitchell of Keene, N. H. — in
the mean time attending two courses of medical lectures at Hano-
ver, where I received the degree of M. D. 1824. While with Dr.
Batcheller, I read Bichat's works. This author maintains that
some of the passions have their seat in the thoracic and abdominal
viscera, — a doctrine with which I was not satisfied. Here 1 begao
to cogitate concerning the constitution and phenomena of man.
So far as I can remember^ I had a notion something like this : —
That the soul or mind is nothing that comes front the celestial re^i^
gions ; but something which the brain forms, or to which it gives
rise, as the liver does to bile ; that ideas come by way of the sen*
ses 'y and when they are in the mind, they are rtal ideas, or rather,
the mind sees them or is conscious of their existence y but they soon*
dodge out into some part of the brain ; but may be brought back
again into the mind by the memory. I believed that the passions-
must have their seat in the nervous system, and that every man
would believe so too, if it could be shown how they influence the
action of the heart, the secretiou of bile, &c. upon this supposition.
This I thought I could do ; therefore I concluded to write my
graduating thesis on the passions. Before I undertook to write thi»
thesis, matters so turned out, that I was safely lodged in Worcester
jail, for the no less heinous crime than that of being instrumental
(as was supposed) in depriving a parcel of worms of their dinner*
Here I was without books, excepting Good's Study of Medicine.
At the time of entering the jail, where 1 remained two months, I
firmly believed in the existence of souls, and although I supposed
them to be formed by the brain, I believed that they may exist in-

448

dependent of it, as bile may exist independent of the liver. I be*
lievec) that sonfiething which I c%n call myselfy wiil exist in a state
of ccmsciousness, immediately as it res^pects lime^ after Cliarles
Knowlton dies. I did not kn'^nr that aii^ man ever doodted the
existence of soul ? i knew there were, or had been, materialists in
the world; but T supposed they held, that the soul is *' formed of
the finesty lit^htest. smoothest, and most moveable material elemeiiCSy
and hence exqui^^itely etherialized and volatile " Strange as it may
appear, I didinot understand from Good's remarks concerning Pro-
fessor Lawn^nceV hypothesis, in the proem to the third volume of
his Study of Medtcint?, that Lawrence disbelieved the real existence
of soul or mind. Under these circumstances I began to write my
thesis .on the passions ; I soon met with insurmountable difficolties
— the soul appeared to be much in my way. At Hsi thinks F, as I
lay on my couch one night, what if I should put the soul entirely
aside for the present — say that an action of the brain is a thooeht,
and an action of the brain and a nerve together, a sensation ; and
see how we can explain matters and things upon ibis supposition ?
Good George ! how things were altered —every thing was now plain
and easy; the very f^icts which before puzzled me, now helped me.
I lived light and regularly, took no stimulus, my brain was in an
excellent thinking condition ; and 1 soon hit upon several of the
more important principles of this work I supposed I had made a
new discovery ; yet I could hardly believe that i tiad hit upon a
truth which thousands of learned searchers had failed to discover.
But having never got hold of any work written by a materialist; un-
til* within ten months from the present time; it is not two years
since I was satisfied that any one ever believed there is no such
thing as a mind (either material or immaterial) distinct from the
brain.

There is scarcely a sentence of mine in this work, but what I
have composed within the last 12 months^ and under circumstances
that would prevent most men from sleeping. For the last four
months, instead of correcting: its errors, ar I ought to have done, I
have been nlmost wholly employed in other business. I never ob-
tained Lawrence's work, until the present was chiefly written; nor
Brown's Philosophy, until about fourteen months ago — Brown
helped me to langn-ige, but I cannot say but that my notions con-
cerning power, cause, and eflbct, were much the same before I read
bis work as now.

I mention these thin?s to show th-^t I did not receive my opi-
oians by inoeutation ; but that they are the natural and irresistible
conclusions to whirh the physical facts known to me, give rise.

P 5, It was 14 months ago, that out o/raere cariosity, I obtain-
ed the bad book I have m'^ntioned : 1 shall only add, I was very
much disappointed in the work. ^^

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